Live to Rise
by MewWinx96
Summary: Four months after the Chitauri invasion, the Earth-bound Avengers have reunited to take on their greatest enemy yet; mainstream media. However, as problems begin to come to light within the team, a very real threat begins to show itself. Can the Avengers save New York before it is too late? Also, who is this mysterious Carol that Fury is friends with? (Heed Disclaimer)
1. Your Last Hope

**First Work: _My Head's Above the Rain and Roses_ id: 12922982**

**Previous Work: _My Kingdom Awaits _id: 13270965**

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**Alright, I have a very limited amount of time to get this done, so let's step it out people!**

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**Disclaimer (though I would argue it's somewhat unnecessary): I do not own _the Avengers_, _Iron Man_, _Captain America_, _the Incredible Hulk_, or any other related recognizable characters and/or properties contained within. All rights go to Marvel Comics, Marvel Studios, and any other interested third party (I don't think I could name them all.) This work contains lines from _the Avengers_ (2012) and draws inspiration and plot points from _The Avengers _vol. 3 #8-9, #15-16, #24-27, #37, #46, #48, and #50, along with _Iron Man_ vol. 1 #182 and #311, _Iron Man_ vol. 3 #7, _Captain America_ vol. 3 #8, _Quicksilver _vol. 1 #10, and _The Avengers_ vol. 3 #7. Additional inspiration was taken from the _NCIS_ episode "SWAK" and _the Walking Dead _episode "Welcome to the Tombs". All credit goes to the respective writers. **

**The title of this fic comes from the Soundgarden song "Live to Rise". All credit goes to Chris Cornell. **

**This fic is rated M, but not for sexual reasons (yes, I know you're disappointed.) It contains ideologically sensitive material, draws inspiration from real-life tragedies, depicts a violent domestic situation, and deals strongly with the issue of alcoholism. This is the only warning you are going to get for these topics. If any of this bothers you, DO NOT READ THIS FIC. Finally, this fic depicts relationships that do not comply with cannon have an ideological, moral, or otherwise bigoted opinion about. If you do not like the Steve/Tony pairing or are turned off by the other disclaimers, please do not read this fic. Death threats will be taken seriously.**

**UPDATE 2/16/20: I do not consent to my works being hosted on any unofficial app, particularly ones with ad revenue and subscription services. You should only be able to read this on FFN and AO3. Nowhere else. If you see my stories being hosted on a third-party application, report it to iTunes or the Google Play Store immediately.**

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**Monday, March 10th, 1975 (Terran Time)**

He kept still as the footsteps got louder. His eyes were squeezed shut, silently willing the Kree soldiers to pass him by. He knew that if they caught him, the rest of the ship would be spared. However, it was far more important to his people's continued survival that he not be caught as he carried with him the key to restarting their civilization.

The Raël had no conflict with the Kree. They were a peaceful race who only wished to live undisturbed. They never sought out trouble, and trouble never found them. That was until the great plague. Almost no one was spared and unfortunately that was the Raëls' own doing.

Early in the Raël's history, they unlocked the secret to gene editing. This allowed them to shape their race to their own design, unlike any other race in the history of the universe had before. They molded all their offspring in their image of beauty – bronze skin, hairless men and women with manes of gold, shockingly bright brown eyes that seemed to shimmer with every movement, and lithe forms more suited to spend endless days in leisure rather than on the battlefield. Any "undesirable" traits were simply edited out before birth. For the longest time, this suited the Raël just fine, until their luck ran out and they were forced to face the dark side of gene editing.

The plague came seemingly from out of nowhere. One day everything was fine and they next, they were burying their relatives; friends; entire towns. Because the Raël hadn't allowed themselves to naturally evolve in such a long time a weak point was created in their immune systems that the disease was able to prey upon. One-sixteenth of the population was still left when Tarquan had taken his family aboard the scouting ship, and most of that population was infected and close to death. The twenty-four people aboard the ship – six men, nine women, and nine children – were the only ones who had never gotten sick.

With their home planet having been taken over by the disease, Tarquan and the remaining Raël searched for a new planet to settle upon. At first, they had sought help from Xandar, however they claimed that no unpopulated life-sustaining planets were available at that time. They offered to settle them on a planet under Xandarian rule but the Raël rejected the offer. They just wanted to live quietly and in peace as they always had, not to be caught up in Xandarian politics and conflict. It was a big universe with plenty of planets to choose from. They'd find the right one, even if it took a while.

While on Xandar, Tarquan had inadvertently learned of a place within the galaxy that housed some of the galaxy's more criminal elements… It was also rumored that anything one searched for could be found on this space station, they just had to know where. Tarquan told the other Raël of this and they agreed it was worth a shot. If they didn't find someone who knew of an uninhabited, life-sustaining planet, they'd surely find something else that would aid in their cause.

As they arrived on Knowhere, Tarquan volunteered to search on his own for information and useful supplies. The others were to afraid to join him. He searched for hours and unfortunately did not produce any leads on a planet. He was, however, able to replenish the ships food, water, and oxygen stores, so at least the trip wasn't a total waste. He was about to return to the ship when a stranger in a red robe unexpectedly grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Heard you've been asking around, looking for a vacant planet." Utterly speechless, Tarquan had nodded in conformation. "I know exactly the place you need to go."

Tarquan followed the creature through the marketplace and into a rather ruddy-looking building. Form there, he was led up a flight of stairs and into a room that looked to serve as a storage space, office, and one-room apartment all in one. In the center of the room sat a man with violet skin and a frog-like face. The robed creature said something to the man in a language Tarquan didn't understand before stepping out of the room. The frog-man then turned his attention to him. Tarquan had never felt so intimidated in his entire life.

He explained the Raël's plight as best he could. The frog-man listened intently, his gaze never leaving Tarquan's face. When he finished the story, the frog-man allowed a stark moment's pause to pass before speaking up in a heavily accented, croaking voice.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid I don't have any inhabitable worlds to offer at this time." Tarquan's face instantly fell. "However, I think I can offer something better." Tarquan's brow raised in interest. The frog-man chuckled and pulled something out of his desk drawer.

The frog man opened his webbed hand to reveal a small gray disc. Pressing a button on the top a compartment within the disk slid open. Inside was a thin, silvery-blue shard on a piece of white, silk-like fabric. Tarquan still looked skeptical.

"Touch it," the frog-man implored. "Then you will know." Seeing that he had nothing to lose, Tarquan tentatively reached out a finger and did as the man said.

Almost instantly the environment changed around him. He was standing on a platform in the middle of the sea and in front of him stood not the frog-man, but his beloved wife Mikah. His eyes widened in shock. Before he could say anything, Mikah opened her mouth and all at once Taquan was bombarded with information, so much information that he couldn't process it all. He saw entire civilizations rise and fall before his eyes and learned every deep dark secret of the universe. In order to protect himself, he reflexively pulled his hand back, causing his consciousness to return to the safety of the frog-man's apartment.

Tarquan gasped as he tried to regain his bearings. Distantly, he could hear the frog-man croaking with laughter.

"Yeah," the frog-man had said. "That happens to everyone the first time. With practice, you can probably control it. I don't know. I haven't experimented with it." Tarquan gave the frog-man a disdainful look. Once again, the frog-man laughed. "Alright," he said. "But you have to agree that there's a whole lot of information on that thing. Information on things like 'how to start a society' and 'how to make a barren planet livable'. Even if not, you defiantly saw the rise and fall of at least a few groups. You can learn from that. Not make the same mistakes."

Tarquan still seemed hesitant. However, the frog-man offered him an incredibly low price. Only 1,000 credits for this one tiny shard with centuries worth of information on it. That was all that was needed to make the deal worthwhile. Tarquan gave him the credits and returned to the ship with the disc, having forgotten the old saying "if it's too good to be true, it probably is."

As it turned out, the frog-man had forgot to mention that the shard was a sort of psychic flash-drive taken from the Kree, and that the Kree were looking for it. Hence why he offered it for such a low price. He wanted to get it off his hands before the Kree came looking for him, and when they eventually did, he just pointed them in the direction of the poor saps who had fallen for his little charade.

Which led to this moment: Tarquan listened as the Kree walked by, thankfully having not noticed his presence. He allowed himself to release a breath of relief before slinking out of his hiding place, heading towards the escape pods.

The ship's escape pods were designed to hold at least fifty people, so the ship's inhabitants would easily fit in comfortably, even with the two new little additions to their ranks. However, none of the men would be joining the evacuees. It was women and children only. The men were to stay on the ship, doing whatever they could to distract the Kree and prevent them from following the escape pod to the planet below. Although they knew the planet – which went by many names; Terra, C-53, Midgard, Earth, etc. – wasn't uninhabited, it was only a short distance from the red planet they had chosen to colonize, so the hope was that once on Terra they could petition it's government to assist them in completing the final leg of their journey. However, if they wanted to start their lives on this new planet, they were going to need all the information they could get in order to do it and do it right.

Tarquan rushed to the escape pod, just in time to reach the remaining survivors before they departed. Mikah met him at the door. He held her for a few seconds before pulling the disc out of his coat pocket and placing it in her hands. She nodded in understanding of what needed to be done. Tarquan then touched his children's faces in an affectionate gesture before sending them all off inside the pod. The door sealed shut behind them and he could hear the shuttle disembarking. He sighed and a single tear rolled down his face before turning to join the other men in facing the wrath of the Kree.

What Tarquan didn't know was that shortly after the escape pod disembarked from the main craft, an unforeseen electrical issue had sparked a fire. Given that the pod's systems vented in pure oxygen into its main chamber, it didn't take long for the fire to spread. It took only moments for the pod's occupants to be engulfed in flames, completely making the men's sacrifice pointless. It only took a few minutes for the Raël to be completely erased from the universe.

Another thing that Tarquan didn't know? The disc was fireproof.

Charles left the church in a huff. The young lady he'd been chatting up for the past few weeks had invited him to a party that was being thrown that night. Seeing it as a chance to get lucky, he agreed to go, only to find out that this "party" was a church event. He did go inside for a few moments, though. The young woman was indeed very attractive. However, it didn't take long for the church members to – in his view – force their religion upon him, so he stormed out of there. That girl may have been pretty, but she wasn't worth putting up with that malarkey.

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From a young age, Charles had been a staunch Atheist. Despite his family's urgings, he never believed in God or Jesus or any other religious figure. He saw them as just as fraudulent as Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. As soon as he could, he left home without looking back, attending Culver University in Virginia, hundreds of miles away from his hometown and family. However, he still couldn't escape the stranglehold religion had on society. It shouldn't have surprised him. It **was** Virginia after all, a part of the Bible Belt. A lot of people were bound to be religious.

As he got older, his Atheism progressed from the simple denial of a God to vehement opposition to all religion. He would tell anyone who would listen that religion was for the weak. That its enslaved people and normalized a capitalist power structure; giving white men the justification to dominate women and deny the rights of people of color. He thought the United States should be an Atheist state, reject the ideals of capitalism, and turn to communism.

Obviously, his beliefs were rather radical and didn't do much to help him make connections or find friends, so he spent most nights alone, studying the men he admired most: Fidel Castro, Mao Zedong, and Karl Marx. Occasionally he could charm a girl or two, but often it ended much like this night, with him walking the streets back to his dorm room alone.

At least that's what he was doing until some sort of substance came raining down in his face. He looked to the sky but didn't see a single cloud. His eyes burned when they met whatever it was. At first, he thought it might have been dirt, but on further inspection, it appeared to be either soot or ash. As he rubbed the substance between his fingers, he felt something bounce off the toe of his shoe. Looking over, he saw a small gray disc about the size of a bottlecap come rolling into a lopsided landing on the ground. Curious, he picked the item up.

It didn't take long for Charles to figure out the button on top opened a secret compartment. He pressed it and the silvery-blue shard slid out. Confused as to what it possibly could be, he tried to pick it up by pinching it between his two fingers. What followed was completely mind-boggling.

Much like how it happened for Tarquan before him, Charles found himself on a platform in the middle of the sea. Standing before him, however, was none other than Karl Marx himself. Charles opened his mouth to try to say something, anything to his idol, and as he did Karl Max opened his mouth as well, causing the flood of information to surge through Charles' brain.

Instantly he let go of the shard. Amazingly, he didn't drop it or the disc and managed to slide it shut. Charles looked around as he tried to catch his breath. Ash was still raining down from the sky. As far as he could tell, no other mysterious objects had fallen nearby. Quickly, he shoved the disc into his pocket and took off in a full sprint back towards the university. He didn't know what it was or what he had just experienced, but he knew he needed to get back to his dorm before people came, asking questions.

When he finally did get back into his room, he slumped to the floor and struggled to catch his breath. He extracted the disc from his pocket and once again inspected it, albeit this time more carefully. He could see that the disc was stained black from the soot, but if he wiped it off it appeared to be light gray underneath. Pressing the button again, he watched as the compartment containing the shard slid out. Hesitantly, he touched his finger to the shard again, only to have the same experience as the previous time. He pulled his hand away as fast as he could and took the object to his desk, wondering what the hell it was and how it worked.

He spent the whole night sitting at the desk, touching the shard and pulling his fingers away, trying to process the information being dumped on him and trying to figure out how to get it to come to him at a much slower, more understandable pace. He started to notice that every time he touches the shard, he'd first be faced with the image of Karl Marx. Every time, he'd be too shocked to speak. It eventually occurred to him that maybe all he needed to do to interface with whatever this shard was speak up. It took a few tries, but eventually, he was able to get over his internal shock and was able to force a word out.

"Wait," he exclaimed just as Karl Marx was about to open his mouth. Marx looked at him then as if surprised. Charles found himself to be surprised as well, but quickly got over it and tried saying more. "That… The information you keep overloading me with, is that how you speak?" That was the first thing Charles thought to ask. Marx's mouth began to open, and Charles was quick to cut him off. "Just nod for yes and shake your head for no." Marx looked at him with a perplexed expression for a few moments, but eventually nodded. Charles let out a breath of relief. That was good to know. "Alright. I'll just keep my questions to simple yes or no answers. Does that work for you?"

Marx nodded.

"Okay," Charles said. "Is there any way you can say all that information a bit slower?"

Marx shook his head.

"Alright. Is there any other way you can communicate other than this?"

Again, Marx shook his head.

"Are you sure about that?"

Marx nodded. Charles threw his head back. He tried to think of some way he could try to communicate with this thing, but he kept drawing a blank. Then, another question came to him.

"Wait, where are we right now? Is this my mind?"

Marx nodded.

"Holy shit," Charles gasped in disbelief. "This is insane… Can you… Can you control what I do?"

Again, Marx nodded. Charles' eyes widened in shock, but he quickly saw how he could use this to his advantage.

"If I let go of the shard for a second and come back, will you not immediately overwhelm me with all that information?" Marx gave another nod and Charles broke his connection with the shard.

Searching through the room, he eventually found a blank yellow legal pad and set it down on the desk in front of him. Taking a pen in his left hand, he again touched the shard with his right, bringing him back to the platform in the sea.

"Alright, I have paper in front of me right now," Charles explained. "And in my left hand, there's a pen. If I asked you a more detailed question, would you be able to take control of my hand and write down your answer?" Marx gave a curt nod and Charles found himself pulling his hand away from the shard and looked down at the paper in front of him. Written in his neat, cursive handwriting at the top of the page was a simple question: "What would you like to know?"

Charles smiled before placing his finger back on the shard again. He looked Marx directly in the eye as he asked, "what would be the best way to install socialism in a capitalist society?" Marx said nothing in response, but Charles could feel his left-hand twitch of its own accord. He didn't move or say anything, not wanting to sever the connection while he was in the middle of transferring the information. Eventually, he felt his hand stop moving and only then did he feel safe to remove his finger from the shard.

Looking down at the page, he found that hours had passed, and he had written several pages, explaining how multiple societies that he had never even heard of managed to successfully adapt communism (or at least, a governing style similar enough to Terran communism.) Reading it all back, Charles found himself lost in thought. He took all the information he'd been given and translated it all into his own ideas and thoughts about how American society was set up and how communism could fit into it. A few of his thoughts he scribbled down on a fresh piece of paper before he had his breakthrough: religion was never the enemy, religion was the answer. What was the best way to introduce Marxism to American society? That would be to infiltrate the church.

When he thought about it, it really made sense. This entire country was filled with religious zealots. All he had to do was tap into their feeble minds and use their false Gods and paper idols to spread the ideas of socialism. It was practically genius!

Immediately, Charles set to work writing down all his ideas. Ideas turned to tenants. Tenants turned to gospel. Gospel turned to structure. The structure turned to government. The government turned to faith; a faith that Charles himself didn't believe in but knew that thousands of weak-minded Americans would buy into easily.

From that day Charles Elias Mozzarella ceased to exist. He would be reborn as the prophet of a new religious movement; Daniel Adoniram.

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**Sunday, September 4th, 2011**

The next four decades Adoniram spent trying to get as many people to join his church as he possibly could. The first thing he did to try to further that goal was to relocate to New York City. Since it was one of the largest cities in the world, he had the potential to reach the widest audience. He held different religious events, such as faith healings and conventions that boasted acceptance of all denominations of Christianity, but pushed people to try and join his movement, the Peoples Unity Church of the Supreme Understanding. Many of his churches were set up in low-income areas and neighborhoods with high minority populations. He piggybacked on the civil rights movement, promising equality for all and even asked all attendees to come dressed in their everyday attire, so that way poorer members wouldn't feel alienated or lesser.

Adoniram married one of his followers a few years after officially opening his religion to the public, but despite that, he had numerous affairs with several men and women. If his wife, Margot, knew, she certainly didn't seem bothered by it. She remained faithfully by his side through the decades, unlike his followers.

The Supreme Understanding's membership peaked sometime in the mid-to-late '90s, but once tragedies like the Waco siege and the Heaven's Gate mass suicide started making headlines, it became harder and harder to recruit new members. Eventually, Adoniram became desperate, making doomsday prophecies in order to draw in new members. It did entice fear in some people, but in the end, it made more people leave his religion rather than increased their faith. When he gave the date of May 21st, 2011 as the end of the world and the day came to pass without incident, he saw the biggest withdrawal yet, leaving him with only a few hundred, somewhat skeptical followers. He pushed the date back a few months to September 4th, 2011, in a last-ditch effort to revive his followers' faith in him.

They gathered in the Gantry Plaza State Park in Queens, and patiently awaited whatever tragedy was to come. Outside of a few police sirens and seeing Iron Man fly by at least once, nothing seemed to be happening. Many of the followers stood around looking rather bored and sweaty in the heavy white robes they were wearing. Most had abandoned the hot concrete lookout at which Adoniram was standing in favor of the shade of nearby trees. Margot remained by his side, though she did start fanning herself with a folded-up brochure she'd somehow acquired.

Adoniram could feel the entire world crashing down around him. This was it. He had to admit defeat. His ideas had failed. Everything he had worked for his entire life had amounted to nothing. He turned to face the river, contemplating throwing himself in it and not bothering to even try to swim when suddenly a bright blue light flashed up in the sky.

Rubbing his eyes and looking away for a second, Adoniram was able to confirm that what he saw was real. He glanced over at Margot to see that whatever it was had caught her attention, too. Although it was hard to tell from this perspective, Adoniram was able to make out that the light was coming from the newly-constructed Stark Tower or some other building within that vicinity. At first, he thought it might be some sort of freaky, holographic light show set up by Tony Stark to celebrate the building's completion, that was until a massive hole opened in the sky and creatures on hoverbikes started descending from the sky. Although he had never seen them himself, he instantly recognized them from his many sessions with the shard over the years. These were the Chitauri; actual aliens from outer space.

As they began to attack the city, he could hear the people around him scream and Margot grasp tightly to his arm. Adoniram himself, though, was smiling. This was exactly what he needed. He turned around to face his followers, who once again were crowding the lookout along with a few other shocked bystanders. Gently, he pried Margot's hand off his arm, allowing him to stand with his arms out in a sort of crucifix-like position.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "This is the apocalypse!"

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**My Dad's coming to pick me up at nine and it's 8:48 right now so I have to make this quick. Thank you for reading this story and chapter! Please favorite and follow if you like and don't be afraid to leave a review!**

**Remember kids... Something about power and responsibility! I don't know! I have to go! Bye!**

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**Originally Posted to FFN on 6/15/19**


	2. Argumentative

**Alright, this time I've given myself more time to prepare, so we shouldn't be as rushed this time.**

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**Friday, January 20th, 2012**

Lara couldn't suppress her yawn as she stepped out of the subway. She was dead tired. Only getting two hours of sleep tended to do that to a person. Unfortunately, this time she didn't have PTSD, an addiction to _Street Fighter IV_, or her trashy neighbors setting off fireworks at three in the morning to blame. Nope, this time she spent most of the night lying awake, waiting for sleep to come, but it never did. It was all on her and that would be fine if it wasn't for the facts that this was Friday morning, she had to work, she was going to D.C. the next day, and she would have no time to catch up on sleep over the weekend. To top it all off, she couldn't even get a coffee at Starbucks because all the artificial flavorings and sweeteners they dump in that stuff would throw her into a diabetic coma. How wonderful!

Just to make things worse, as she passed through the Grand Central entrance to Stark Tower – or Avengers Tower as they were calling it now – she could hear the booming echo of a voice coming from the direction of the main lobby. She let out a curse and ran towards the commotion, giving quickly huffed apologies to the people she had to shove aside. Unsurprisingly, she entered the lobby and was greeted with the sight of several dozen people in white robes gathered in front of a man dressed similarly to them with a thick beard and long gray hair tied back in a ponytail. Lara groaned as she identified the group as the People's Unity Church. She couldn't help but compare them to the Sand People from _Star Wars_.

_You can chase them off, but they'll be back and in greater numbers._

That certainly wasn't too far from the truth. At first, the Church only gathered on the public sidewalk in front of the building to hold services in memory of those they claimed were the first deaths of the coming apocalypse – A.K.A. everyone who died during the Battle of New York. Tony wasn't exactly thrilled about this when it started happening, but they were technically on public land and had the First Amendment right to practice their religion as they saw fit. If they wanted to hold a memorial service on the sidewalk once every few days, then they had the legal right to do so. Tony could politely ask them to gather elsewhere (which he did numerous times,) but he couldn't have them arrested or physically move them from the sidewalk.

However, as the Church's membership grew, so did the crowds that came to attend the memorial services. Eventually, it became unfeasible to continue holding services on the sidewalk without obstructing pedestrian traffic so instead, they started gathering inside the tower itself. That worked out perfectly for Tony.

Whether they knew it or not, taking their congregation indoors meant giving up their right to freely gather and express their religious views. If they wanted to hold a public event, they needed a permit from the city and permission from the property owner to gather there. The People's Unity Church had neither. The first time they got thrown out, the Church claimed that they couldn't legally gather. However, they kept coming back, so they couldn't exactly use that as an excuse anymore and in a way, getting thrown out of Avengers Tower worked in their favor.

Every time the police came to remove the Church members from the property, the members would claim religious discrimination and harassment. They'd usually have to be carried out while screaming about how the NYPD was fascist pigs that were preventing them from freely practicing their religion and about how the United States was a "fascist paradise" trying to suppress all its people. Having spent a portion of her childhood in Europe, Lara couldn't help but laugh at the notion. Obviously, these people had no idea what true fascism was and was ignoring the fact that there was currently a Democrat in office.

The People's Unity Church didn't come to preach at Avengers Tower every day. They tried to keep it random so that the police and the building's security personnel couldn't anticipate them coming. A few times security did manage to stop them from coming in, but for the most part, the Church members had become masters of sneaking into and out of the building. Usually, they wouldn't know the Church was there until they had already started their sermon for the day. That certainly increased frustrations.

As the Church's priest or Grand Wizard or whatever they referred to their leader as spoke, the members looked to him with rapt attention. Lara wasn't sure, but it sounded like he was quoting Acts of Apostles. Looking around, Lara could see that several civilians had stopped to gawk at the bizarre gathering, but it didn't look like Cabe or anyone else from security had been alerted yet.

Lara's hand moved to fish her cell phone out of her messenger bag when something caught her attention. It wasn't much, really; just a simple red box containing a lever sealed behind a sheet of glass hanging onto the wall. Above the box was a warning that misuse of fire equipment would result in a five-hundred dollar fine or six months imprisonment. Despite the warning, Lara decided it was worth the risk. After all, it would be much quicker and easier than having the police throw them out individually.

With that in mind, Lara swung the little knocker into the glass, smashing it to pieces. She then pulled the lever down and waited. The alarms started to blare like they were supposed to, but to her surprise that didn't immediately set off a stampede. Mostly everyone in the lobby stared up at the ceiling, confused. Rolling her eyes at the mass case of stupidity, Lara cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed "fire!"

People finally seemed to get the message then and began to disperse. Lara, meanwhile, calmly made her way to the elevators. Once inside, she stuck her electronic key into the control panel and hit the hidden button for the penthouse. Hopefully, Tony wouldn't be too angry.

* * *

Getting off the elevator, Lara looked around, surprised not to hear alarms blaring. At first, she thought the foyer might be soundproof, but as she walked into the hallway, she was surprised to find the entire floor was as quiet as a mouse. Cautiously, Lara took a step forward. For some reason, she was afraid that the alarms would start back up again when she was least expecting it and scare her. However, they didn't, and Lara proceeded to the communal kitchen without any incident.

"What the hell?" she muttered to herself. "You'd think Tony would have the place wired up with nuclear sirens."

"What?" Lara's attention went to the counter, where she could see Bruce was sitting. On the countertop in front of him, she could see that he was having a breakfast of coffee and toast with jelly on it. He also had several papers splayed out in front of him. Curious, Lara stepped closer to see what he was doing.

"Hey Bruce," she said. "What's up." Bruce shrugged.

"The troposphere, stratosphere, mesosphere, thermosphere, ionosphere, and exosphere."

"Ah," Lara commented. "One of those mornings." She tried to get a look at what he was doing but found it hard as from where she was standing behind the counter, Bruce's writing looked upside down. It also didn't help that English was her second language. "What are you doing? Anything I can help with?"

"I'm afraid not," Bruce said. "I'm reviewing the results of an experiment I've been conducting and for some reason, it's not adding up."

"Eh, that doesn't mean I can't take a crack at it." Lara walked around the counter so that way she could get a better view of the writing at the proper angle. The paper Bruce was doing his calculations on was cluttered, but Lara was able to find where the problem started easily.

_ Alright, 238 = 234 + 4…_

"No offense," Bruce said. "But I don't think you'll be able to understand this without a heavy crash course in nuclear decay and the Laws of Conservation."

"It's just numbers, right?" Bruce nodded. "Then I don't need to know what it does, just the basic principles of mathematics."

"I guess," Bruce agreed.

"So, it won't kill me to try." Lara bit down on her lip as she tried ran the calculations through her head.

Although they had gotten off to a bit of a rocky start (if you define holding a knife to a person's eye and threatening to kill them a rocky start), Lara had apologized for her actions and she and Bruce were on cordial enough terms to where she'd consider them friends. He was nice and she liked talking to him, even if she couldn't fully understand what he said sometimes with the scientific terminology. If she asked him to break it down into numbers though, he'd oblige, and she'd be able to get the gist of what he was saying. Numbers were a universal language after all.

Despite that, Lara found herself struggling with the problem as well. Every time she ran the numbers in her head, she came to what seemed like a correct answer, however, she couldn't help but feel like it was slightly off for some reason. She mulled over it before giving it up with a slight shrug.

"You might be right," she said. "Maybe I do need to know a little bit more."

"Yeah," Bruce agreed. "Thanks for trying, though."

"No problem," Lara said, brushing a stray hair that had escaped her bun out of her face. "Where's Tony?"

"Top floor with Steve and Pepper," Bruce reported. "They're probably talking logistics for tomorrow."

"Sounds like a conversation I should be at," Lara said as she started to walk away from the counter. "Better get…" Out of the corner of her eye, she caught something strange. Stepping back to where she was standing before, Lara carefully put a finger down on the page, right on top of one of the many equations. "That equation is unbalanced."

"Huh?" Lara tapped the equation in question.

"At least I'm pretty sure it is," Lara said. "I can't tell if that's supposed to be a six or a zero."

"It's a six," Bruce said, but even he sounded unsure.

"Well, it should be zero," Lara said. "Otherwise the whole thing is unequal, and you'd keep end up getting the wrong result." Bruce pulled the paper closer to him and started doing the math again in his head. He must have gotten the result that he wanted because he raised his eyebrows before looking back up at her.

"Oh," he said. "Thanks." Lara waved it off as she moved to exit the room.

"Don't mention it," she said.

Lara went down a second hallway to the local elevator that serviced each floor within the penthouse. As she hit the button to call for the elevator, she realized there was something that she should probably do.

"JARVIS," she called out. "Can you call the fire department's non-emergency number and tell them that there's no fire and the alarms went off falsely?"

"Already taken care of Miss Conroy," the AI replied. "Mr. Stark had me disable the alarms and inform the fire department while you were still in the elevator." Lara sucked in a breath through her teeth.

"I take that to mean he knows it was me."

"Why, yes," JARVIS said. "I informed him of thusly." Lara gasped in mock shock.

"You ratted me out," she said overly dramatically. "Seriously?"

"Well, I couldn't very well lie to Mr. Stark now, could I?" Lara frowned.

"Ass," she muttered as the elevator doors slid open with a ding.

* * *

Although most of the Avengers' penthouse had been updated to accommodate all its new residents, Steve and Tony's apartment was rather incomplete. Tony had been more focused on getting the rest of the penthouse ready for Romanoff and Barton to move in, which they would be after Tuesday. As a result, when the elevator doors opened, Lara was greeted by the sight of plain white walls and the sounds of Tony and Pepper arguing about the apartment's condition. While Tony and Pepper arguing usually wasn't a good thing, Lara was relieved to hear it as it meant that their attention wouldn't immediately be on the fact that she had pulled the fire alarm and they should probably fire her for that. She didn't regret doing it, but she also wanted to keep her job, even if for only a few seconds longer.

When she walked into what was supposed to be the living room, Pepper had her back to her and her hands on her hips. Tony was facing her but was too focused on Pepper to notice that she had stepped into the room. Steve, meanwhile, was tuning them out completely. He was sitting in a chair that looked like it had been brought up from one of the offices and completely focused on whatever he was drawing in his sketchbook. Lara quietly looked for a spot to put down her coat and bag.

"Tony," Pepper said. "Just looking around I'm shocked you've been able to live like this for this long." Tony rolled his eyes.

"So, there's no paint on the walls," he said. "So what?"

"So what?" Pepper questioned. "So, what about the fact that there's no furniture in here either, or flooring?" She stamped her high heel-clad foot on the concrete just to emphasize her point. "Even before you started this whole remodeling project you hadn't even had the floors done."

"I'm working on it," Tony tried to assure. "Relax."

"Funny," Pepper said. "Isn't that what you said when I told you to get the floors done back in August?" Tony let out a breath of exasperation. Lara saw this as the perfect opportunity to cut in.

"I don't understand." She noticed the way Tony jumped a little bit when he realized that someone, he wasn't expecting had entered the room. "What's the problem? You certainly can afford to get a guy to do it, so it's not like you have to do all of the work yourself." Tony took a breath before responding.

"The problem," he said. "Is that I need to get five million other things done before I can even start to think about what color the walls should be."

"Tony, I understand that," Pepper said. "But you and Steve have been living in this empty shell of an apartment for months. You're sharing an air mattress on the floor. Steve can't be comfortable like that and I know for certain that you aren't." She must have hit the nail on the head because Tony seemed to wince a little bit before countering with something completely unrelated.

"Pepper, it's rude to talk like someone's not here when they're in the room." Lara couldn't help but share in Pepper's groan of agitation.

"Why do you do this to yourself, Tony?" Pepper asked.

"Do what to myself?"

"Don't play dumb," Pepper said. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't." Lara rolled her eyes.

"You make yourself suffer needlessly," she said. "And don't deny it, you do it all the time."

"How is putting off furnishing an apartment forcing myself to suffer needlessly?" Lara was surprised by how genuinely confused he seemed to be.

"You're denying yourself comfort." Lara rubbed her arms. "And, judging by the temperature in here, warmth. If you were a baby chimpanzee, you'd be setting yourself up to become a sociopath."

"You know, your understanding of sociology is pretty poor for someone who used to be a federal agent," Tony commented.

"I have a mean right hook," Lara explained. "That made up for it. Besides, you're distracting from the point again, so I'm just going to come right out and say it. You're not taking care of yourself."

"I'm fine," Tony asserted.

"Clearly," Lara said sarcastically.

"I'm serious," Tony said. "I mean, I know it isn't exactly the Palace of Versailles in here up here, but there are plenty of furnished rooms and fully-stocked kitchen downstairs. It's still not like we're suffering here.

"Wow," Lara said. "Even when I tell you directly what the point is, you still miss it." She turned away and took a deep breath, needing a moment to collect her thoughts before she jumped back into the argument again. She had just about figured out what she was going to say when Steve made the announcement that he was "finished." Looking back, Lara could see that Tony had furrowed his brow.

"Finished with what?" he asked.

"Design ideas for the apartment." That reply caused Tony to raise an eyebrow and Pepper to step over to look for herself. Lara and Tony then followed suit. "I mean, it's not much," Steve admitted. "I mostly based it on what I remember of the inside of the house in Malibu and what you've got going on downstairs…"

"My God," Pepper said as she took one of the papers from Steve. "This is really good."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," Pepper agreed.

"Oh my gosh, all of the lines are straight," Lara exclaimed. "You don't have a ruler! How did you do that?"

"I drew a line?" Steve looked at her like "what other explanation were you expecting?"

"I can't draw a straight line to save my life," Lara remarked. "That's amazing!" Steve still looked at her oddly.

"You know what," Pepper said. "I could work with this."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"Well, if Tony's not going to furnish this place…"

"I didn't say that…" Pepper held up a hand.

"Hush." Tony frowned, but Pepper continued non-pulsed. "I could order some stuff, and have it set up while you guys are gone."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Tony asked. "I thought you were going to go to D.C. with us."

"Yeah, about that," Pepper said. "I was actually thinking of staying back." Tony's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"You can't," was his instant response.

"Why not?" Pepper raised an eyebrow.

"The Avengers are going to be funded by SI," Tony said. "We need someone to represent the company and who better to do that than the greatest CEO of all time?" Pepper barely batted an eyelash.

"First of all, flattery will get you nowhere." Tony's face fell a little bit at being so blatantly called out. "Second of all, we already have you – the owner and face of Stark Industries – going along with Duane the PR guy. Plus, if some sort of freak accident happens where both of you are struck by lightning and killed on the spot, I trust Lara enough to read a pre-written statement on the company's behalf. You don't need me there."

"All of that's great," Tony said. "But can we cut to your main reason here?" Pepper looked down for a second before centering her gaze back on Tony.

"I've been holding the press back while you've been rebuilding and recovering," she said. "It's your turn." Obviously, Tony couldn't argue with that. He let out a sigh of defeat.

"Alright," Tony said. "But the apartment better come out looking at least half as good as Steve's sketches."

"Half as good?" Pepper questioned.

"Yeah," Tony said. "I mean, I can't expect it to be pretty as Steve's sketches. That would be setting an impossible standard that reality can't live up to."

"Thank you, dear." A small smile graced Steve's face. As the two men looked at each other adoringly, Pepper picked her bag and shuffled the papers in her hands.

"Alright," she said. "I better get to work. I'll start looking for furniture later today."

"Okay," Tony said. "E-mail me what you find."

"Of course." Pepper started making her way to the door. "Bye Steve," she called over her shoulder. If I don't see you again, have a safe trip."

"Will do Pepper," Steve assured. "We'll miss you, though."

"I will, too." Pepper pulled one of the heavy glass doors that lead out into the elevator/stair access point. "See you guys later."

"Bye." Once Pepper was gone, Lara bit her lip.

"So," she said. "There's nothing distracting us from the elephant in the room anymore. Would it make it easier if we just skipped this conversation and I head straight for the unemployment line?" Tony shook his head. "Thought so."

* * *

All in all, Lara and Tony's conversation went better than she thought it would. Granted, it was easy to have your expectations surpassed when you kept them lower than sea-level. While Tony didn't like what she did, he understood the idea and frustration behind it, so he was willing to let her off the hook if she promised not to do it again, which honestly, she wouldn't. It might have been effective, but those sirens were just **so loud**…

Once they finished their conversation, Lara set to work confirming check-in times and interviews. Although they were flying over on Saturday at nine AM, Tony wanted to give themselves time to settle in and discuss their PR strategy. He also wanted to give Barton and Romanoff time to rest before they had to face the press. Although he had no idea where they were coming from, Tony told her that there was a strong possibility that they were crossing multiple time zones and likely to be jetlagged, so she planned accordingly. Plus, she also got the feeling that Tony wanted to put off dealing with the press for as long as possible, which was fine with Lara. It wasn't her funeral.

Around four o'clock Lara was starting to wrap things up for the day. She was trying to decide whether she wanted to stop and get something at Subway or wait until she got home and figure something out from there. Her thoughts were interrupted when her office's landline rang. She hit the speakerphone button as soon as it finished its first ring.

"Stark Industries," she said automatically. "You've reached Tony Stark's office. This is Lara Conroy speaking. How may I help you?"

"Conroy, this is Cabe," the woman's voice on the other end said.

"Oh, hey Bethany," Lara said. "What's up?"

"There's a man here to see you." Lara furrowed her brow. She wasn't expecting anyone to visit her and especially not at work. The only man she could think of that might stop by was her younger brother, but he'd only do that if it was an emergency.

"Who?" She asked. "Did you get a name?"

"Uh, Dante Conroy." Lara felt like the floor had been pulled out from underneath her and she was plummeting all fifty-nine floors straight to the ground. "He wouldn't tell me his relation to you. Is he your brother or something?"

"Worse," was the only response she could think to give for a few moments. She pulled herself together long enough to say "keep him there. I'll talk to him." She then hung up the phone and sprinted for the stairs. The elevator would take too long.

When she reached the floor that housed SI's main lobby, Lara paused for a moment to catch her breath and organize herself. Once she was certain she didn't look one well-placed verbal blow away from a mental breakdown, she held her head up high and tried to walk with as much confidence as she could muster.

Entering the room, she made eye contact with Dante almost instantly. She was surprised to see that he looked about halfway decent. His hair was trimmed as neatly as she'd ever seen it and the long-sleeved button-up shirt he was wearing covered his tattoos. Most shockingly, though, was the fact that he looked happy to see her. The feeling wasn't mutual, and she wanted to make sure that he knew it.

"Restraining order," were the first two words out of her mouth. Instantly, she saw Cabe put her hand on her gun.

"Hello, Lara," was Dante's response.

"Restraining order," she reiterated.

"Lovely to see you, too." He still wasn't getting it.

"**Restraining order**."

"You know, I looked into that," Dante said. "The restraining order you had against me expired in 2009. You have no legal right to have me arrested." Lara let out a curse under her breath. That was when Cabe stepped forward.

"She might not," she said. "But I do. Leave the premises now or the cops are being called." Dante held up his hands placatingly.

"I don't want to hurt anyone and I'm not going to," he said. "I just want to talk to Lara."

"I don't want to hear it," Lara said. "Get out."

"Could you just hear me out?" Dante took a step forward, causing Cabe to raise a hand in warning.

"Sheffield, call the police." Out of the corner of her eye, Lara could see the man behind the desk next to her punching in numbers on his landline's keypad. She kept her gaze solidly on Dante, though.

"Look," Dante said. "I know our marriage wasn't the best…"

"Second-degree murder, first-degree assault." Dante visibly winced at that.

"I know," he said. "I regret that ever happened, but I'm a different man now and I want to make amends." Lara scoffed at that. "I'm serious. I've learned the truth and now I need to fix my past mistakes."

"'Learned the truth?'" Lara questioned. "Oh, don't tell me you found Christ in jail. Praise be to Jesus!"

"Of course not," Dante said with a voice full of pure disgust. "I would never follow a false profit."

"Allahu Akbar, then?" From the look on her face, Lara could tell that Cabe didn't like where the conversation was going and wanted to end the conversation before it escalated.

"Sir, please leave before I am forced to escort you out."

"No," Dante said. "I haven't even gotten to say I'm sorry yet…"

"Lance, Miller, get him out of here." At Cabe's command, two men suddenly appeared beside Dante, both looking beyond intimidating. Dante did the right thing and took a step back.

"Alright," he said. "I'll go. Sorry to cause such a fuss."

"You better be," was all Cabe said. Lara kept her eyes on Dante until he had gotten into the elevator with Lance and Miller, the doors sliding shut behind them. Only then did Lara let out a breath of relief.

"Holy shit, I was not expecting that today." Putting her hand on her heart, Lara could feel that it was beating faster than the speed of light.

"That was your ex?" Lara nodded in confirmation. "I'm sorry about that."

"I'm sorry I married him."

"He's officially on the blacklist now," Cabe said. "If he tries to come in again, security will be on him before he even reaches the elevators."

"Thank you," Lara said sincerely.

"No problem," Cabe assured. "Will you be okay to go home?"

"Probably not," Lara said. "But I have a friend from the Secret Service who lives in the city. I'll be okay.

"If you're sure." Lara gave the other woman a reassuring nod before heading back to the stairs.

Once she had gone up a few floors, Lara found she couldn't go any further. Leaning against one of the walls, she slumped down and pulled her knees to her chest. A strangled sob escaped her mouth before she pulled herself back together one last time and reached for her phone. Todd would freak if she heard her that upset, especially over Dante.

* * *

**Yes, another OC-centered chapter, but at least you got to see a bit of Steve and Tony! Plus, the next chapter is from Tony, Natasha, and Steve's perspectives so that makes this better, right? Right?**

**Remember kids, always have your chapter ready to post the day before you're actually going to post it. It makes life so much simpler.**

* * *

**Originally uploaded to FFN on 6/15/19.**


	3. Cheers

**Is it possible to get sun poisoning even if you weren't in the sun that long, like ten minutes at the most? Not the right place to ask this, I know, but I feel like I'm going to pass out and that's the only questionable thing I've done in the past few days, otherwise there's no explanation and answers would be appreciated, thank you.**

* * *

**Saturday, January 21st, 2012**

He was going back to a place he hoped he'd never see again. The rest of Manhattan was sinking behind him as he went up, up, up. The portal was coming closer, Chitauri soldiers continuing to pour out of it from the depths of space. The nuke on his back was a heavy weight, one that pressed down on him hard. He had less than a dozen seconds before it exploded. He needed to get it through the portal.

Steeling himself as he passed through the ring of blue light, Tony was instantly struck by the sight before him; a single spacecraft surrounded by dozens of those sky-whales and hundreds upon thousands of Chitauri soldiers. The air was quickly escaping from his suit and he really wished he hadn't told JARVIS to skip the spinning rims. Ocean-proofing wasn't the same thing as space-proofing, but at least then there'd be a chance that the air wouldn't escape as fast. A snowball's chance in Hell, but still a chance.

Out of everything Tony expected his last moments to be like, he never expected himself to be so at peace with dying. He'd been fighting to stave off death for so long (save for that admittedly slightly-suicidal period when he was dying from palladium poisoning) he'd never thought he would just give up, but he was. The world needed him to make this sacrifice and he was ready and willing to make it.

The HUD flickered off. JARVIS' voice faded out. The armor lets go of the nuke. Tony started falling backward. Suddenly, he realized how alone he was. He wanted Steve. He wanted Rhodey and Pepper. He wanted his mom, the original Jarvis, Ana… He'd even give anything to have Banner, Barton, Thor, and Romanoff there. Just somebody. He wanted somebody to be there with him in his final moments of life. No one could be there with him, though, so his brain tried to give him the illusion of what he wanted in the form of an old Hungarian lullaby.

"Szomorú varsnap száz fehér virággal

Vartalek kedvesem templomi imával…"

The nuke detonated and soon Tony was consumed by fire and fury the likes of which the world has never seen.

* * *

Tony immediately bolted upright, his breaths coming in fast-paced and ragged. Wherever he was it was dark, too dark, but he still had to be alive because he could still see the glow of the Arc Reactor coming from his chest. At least, that's what he told himself. Further proof that he was still alive came when he heard a sharp click behind him and a bright light filled the room.

"Tony?" He let out a breath of relief as soon as he heard Steve's voice.

Nightmare, he thought. It was just a nightmare. Despite his attempts to reassure himself, Tony couldn't help but be reminded that it wasn't just a nightmare. That happened to him less than four months ago, the only difference being that he hadn't died. He had fallen back through the portal and the Hulk had caught him before he had hit the ground. He was still alive, but it felt like he couldn't escape that moment.

"Tony?" Steve's voice was soft and gentle. Tony could feel the bed shift as he moved closer. "Are you okay?" Steve didn't touch him, and Tony was grateful for that. Sure, he wanted comfort, but he needed a moment.

"Fine," he manages to say, but he knows Steve doesn't believe it. Still, he keeps his hands-off Tony and lets him try to catch his breath. Tony closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing and not crying.

Letting go of a very pained breath, Tony finally found it in him to turn and look at Steve. His blond hair was a mess and his blue eyes were bearing into him with a look of concern. Slowly trailing his eyes down to Steve's bare chest. There he could see a red mark forming in the shape of a hand. Oops.

"Sorry." Steve gave him a confused look until Tony gestured to the mark in question.

"Oh," he said, waving it off. "Don't worry, it's fine. It'll fade in a minute. What about you?"

Since Tony couldn't put in the energy to lie again, he just shrugged and looked down at his lap. Steve raised his hand and left if hovering at his back for a few seconds before asking "is it alright if I touch you?"

"Yeah," Tony responded quietly with a nod. Steve's hand stroked slowly up and down his back before coming to rest on his shoulder. Tony shut his eyes and leaned into the touch. He still couldn't believe that he and Steve were dating now. He was still waiting for the universe to reveal that this was all an elaborate joke and rip Steve away from him at any moment, so he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

They sat there for a while in silence. Tony tried to process the fact that he was still alive while Steve supported him. It was a nice moment, but the moment had to pass, and Tony started to move to lie back down. Steve shut off the light and did the same, lying on his side to face him.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tony softly confirmed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." He could see Steve's silhouette nod in acceptance.

"Is there anything I can do?" At that, Tony rolled over until his face was against Steve's chest and wrapped his arms around his waist.

"Just be here." Steve's only response was to wrap his arms around Tony and kiss the top of his head.

He didn't go back to sleep, though. While Steve drifted off with seeming ease, Tony was left wide awake and alone. He'd groan in exasperation, but Steve was still asleep next to him and he didn't want to wake him up. He already felt horrible enough for waking him up once. He didn't need Steve to be up all night as well. Speaking of which, he should probably take care of that before he did end up staying up the entire night.

Gently slipping out from under Steve's embrace, Tony quietly padded over to the en suite bathroom, one of the only rooms in the entire apartment that was technically finished. Getting down on his hands and knees, he opened the cabinet under the sink. There, he retrieved an inconspicuous-looking box from the back and produced a flask from inside. Tilting his head back, Tony downed as much alcohol as fast as he could. He got about halfway through the flask before sealing it and putting it back inside the box. The box went back into it's hiding place in the back of the cabinet and pulled himself back up so that he was eye-to-eye with the man in the mirror.

Ignoring how terrible he looked with the black bags under his eyes, Tony pulled the mirror back to open the medicine cabinet. He decided to top the whiskey off with a capful of NyQuil, figuring he could probably use the help falling asleep as well as staying asleep. After that, he rinsed his mouth out with both Listerine and water and took the extra step of brushing his teeth. He hoped that was enough to cover the scent of alcohol, but with Steve's enhanced senses he highly doubted it would make much of a difference.

Turning the light off before opening the door, Tony stepped back out into the bedroom. Slowly and carefully, he slipped himself back under Steve's arm, careful not to wake him. Once he worked himself back into the position he was in before, Tony shut his eyes and pressed his forehead up against Steve's shoulder.

_Hopefully, that'll do it,_ he thought.

* * *

"Why am I not surprised that you're just showing up **now**?" Tony slammed the car door as he spotted Lara across the tarmac, standing by the plane with a cross look that could easily rival Pepper's. "We were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago."

"It's my plane," Tony pointed out. "It leaves when I'm ready."

"I think there might be some rule or regulation somewhere that states that you have to leave when your flight plan says you're going to."

"Sorry about that," he could hear Steve apologize as he stepped closer to the stairs leading up to the plane. "Some of us had a hard time waking up this morning." If Tony were standing closer to him, he'd pinch Steve for saying that, probably on the butt. Instead, he settled for rolling his eyes.

Lara turned to climb up the stairs that led to the plane. Tony followed her, with Steve close behind him. Bruce brought up the rear.

Once onboard the plane, a dark-skinned bald man stood up to shake hands with Tony. He made quick work of introducing the man to Steve and Bruce as Duane Freeman, head of the New York branch's PR department. With all introductions out of the way, Tony took the chance to get settled into one of the booth seats, sitting with his legs stretched out across it. That was until Steve came over and gently pushed his legs aside to sit next to him. Tony gave an annoyed hum at first but scooched over to be closer to Steve once he sat down.

"Hey, stranger," he said.

"Hey yourself," Steve said with a small grin. "What's up?"

"Not much," Tony said. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Steve said. "I know you had nightmares last night and you weren't too agreeable this morning…"

"I'm fine," Tony assured. "And I'll be even finer once this plane is in the air."

_Because then I can break out the Jack!_ Tony felt Steve run his hand up and down his arm comfortingly. Meanwhile, Lara slid into the seat across the aisle from them.

"Any idea when Barton and Romanoff are going to be flying in?" she asked, making eye contact with Tony.

"Nope," Tony said, popping the "p." "They could be coming in earlier or later or they could be at the airport at the same time as us. I have no idea. All I know is that they're flying in from a land far, far away."

"And we're not expecting Thor to show, right?"

"Unless he magically figures out from across space that we're going to be spending the next few days meeting the press and politicians and for some crazy reason he decides he wants in on that, probably not." Lara held up one hand placatingly while she used the other one to scroll through her phone.

"I'm just asking," she said. "A simple no would have sufficed."

"Says the woman who wanted a contingency plan for if Fidel Castro suddenly died." Lara frowned.

"You're going to hold that over me for the rest of my life, aren't you?"

"Probably," Tony shrugged.

"In my defense, I was new to the job," Lara said. "I've learned, gotten better since then."

"How so?" Lara flipped her phone around and held it out as far as she could for Tony to see. The screen was on the website of the hotel they were going to be staying at.

"They have conference rooms available to rent out," she said. "I was thinking once we've had time to settle in, we can use one of these spaces to have our meeting."

"Sounds good," Tony said. "Do it." Lara pulled her phone back close to her.

"I need a time," she said.

"Do after lunch," Tony said. "Like, one or so. If Barton and Romanoff haven't joined us by then, we can give them a quick rundown later."

"Okay." Lara turned her attention back to the screen, intently tapping away. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she almost jumped out of her seat. "Ooo! It says if I register for a rewards card, I can get a free party cake with the rental of any conference or common room, star restrictions apply."

"What?" Again, Lara held her phone out. Steve, Tony, and Bruce (who had just finished securing the carry-on bags in the overhead bins) leaned in to get a closer look.

"Lara," Bruce said. "I think that the offer is only for kids' birthday parties and things like that." Lara snorted in disbelief.

"What parent is throwing their kid's birthday party at the Hay-Adams Hotel?"

_Howard Stark._ Technically it wasn't as much a birthday party as it was a political brown-nosing festival, but Tony still got a cake (albeit a small slice of carrot cake) so he supposed that counted.

"Aren't you diabetic anyways?" Bruce asked. "You probably shouldn't be eating cake."

"Probably not," she agreed. "But I can still watch you guys eat cake and feel sorry for myself."

"Conroy, please don't." Lara made a noise of disappointment.

"Fine," she said. "But let it be known that I think it's too good of an opportunity to pass up."

"Sure, it is." Lara scowled in disbelief at Tony's tone but quickly turned her attention back to her phone. Meanwhile, Bruce slid into the seat across from Steve and Tony.

"So why are we going down to D.C. so early?" Bruce asked. "I mean, I know it's to do press, but can't we do that from New York and go down for the State of the Union on Tuesday?"

"The media wants to make a whole spectacle of it," Lara shrugged. "Interviews, parties, yadda, yadda. It's the first time you're all going to be mostly together since New York, too, so that kind of adds to it. Plus, it would probably be easier for Barton and Romanoff to fly out to D.C. and fly back with us than doing a back-and-forth thing."

"Plus, Pepper thought it was a good idea," Tony added.

"Which of course it is," Freeman added from where he was sitting behind them. "The press has been going crazy trying to get interviews and statements from you guys for months. I'm surprised they never tried to break down the doors to Stark Tower with the way they've been constantly calling the PR offices."

"They're probably too afraid of Cabe to try," Tony suggested.

"Or the Jim Jones Fan Club outside…" Lara added under her breath.

"Regardless," Freeman said. "The public wants to get to know the Heroes of New York and all of the media is practically jumping over each other to get dibs on the first interview. If we play this right, this could do an amazing amount of good for both Stark Industries and the Avengers."

_…Or sink both ships with one torpedo._

Tony couldn't help but be pessimistic about dealing with the press. Although yes, he was an amazing showman who could have every single person in a room eating out of the palm of his hand, he had numerous public scandals that had left their scars. The worst one was the sex tape that outed him as bisexual. Not only was he not ready to come out publicly at the time, but he also wasn't even fully out of the closet with those closest to him. The only people who had known were Peggy (the only person he had willingly told), Rhodey (who found out after the sock incident), and obviously the men he slept with. The media had drug him through the mud so hard back then that he could still taste dirt in his mouth. Many of his personal and professional relationships had been damaged by it and any time someone had so much as tried to mention it, Tony wanted to throw up. He understood how much power the media held and how easily it could ruin your life.

That was why he and Steve were going to keep their interactions as low-key as possible in front of the press. Steve wasn't ready to come out of the closet yet and Tony knew that if they didn't do it in the right way, the press would rip them to shreds. It was probably best that they didn't take that step right now anyways. After all, they hadn't even been out on a proper date yet.

As Tony started falling down the rabbit hole of worry, the plane's captain's voice came over the intercom, advising all of them to fasten their seatbelts and prepare for takeoff. Tony did as he was told but couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for them to reach cruising altitude, whether anyone would notice if he got a drink at the bar at this early hour, and if they would judge him if they did. He got the feeling that the answer to that last one was yes.

* * *

Natasha could see the dirty look the concierge was giving her. Obviously, he didn't condone her putting her socked feet on the pristine couch that sat in the waiting area. Too bad. She was comfortable like this and it felt so good to be comfortable after a needlessly exhausting two-hour flight. Besides, at least she had the courtesy to take off her snow-covered boots first.

Clint sat on the couch next to her – the proper way. His eyes were glued to the screen of the flip phone in his hands. Based on the movements of his thumb across the keypad, she could easily guess that he was texting Laura. Usually, when they were out for work, Clint limited his contact with his wife. He didn't need to be distracted on a mission, after all, and conversely, he didn't need an enemy learning of his family's existence by tracing a phone signal. However, it was different this time. There were no missions to get distracted from or enemies to face. For once, they were working with the minimal need for cautiousness and secrecy.

Just before Christmas, they had gotten a call from Stark. They hadn't heard from him or any of the other Avengers since Coulson's funeral, so they immediately thought that it must be a world-ending catastrophe. Natasha was rushing Laura and the kids down to the Annex and Clint was sprinting to the safe to get their weapons before he had even picked up the phone. However, their alarm had been for naught. Stark was calling them to inform them that the Avengers had been invited to attend the State of the Union. Of course, both Clint and Nat had agreed to go, but if they had known what a circus this was going to be, they would have hesitated a bit more with their answer.

Although they had no problems at the airport, when they arrived at the hotel, they found that there were already a handful of reporters gathered outside, desperate to get the first glimpse at the Avengers in months. Although the front entrance clearly wasn't secure, neither Clint nor Natasha had the cash on them to pay off the cab driver to drop them off out back, so they, unfortunately, had to brave the storm. Getting out of the taxi, the two super-spies sped past the press, covering their faces as best they could and giving "no comment" as their response to any asked questions. That probably wasn't how Stark wanted them to interact with the press, but they considered it better than saying something they shouldn't and having it getting taken out of context later.

Once inside, they made themselves comfortable on the sofa and began to wait for the others to arrive. They texted Stark to let him know that they were there, and he responded that they were still twenty minutes out from D.C. When you figured twenty minutes to fly in, fifteen to get their luggage, and God knows how long to battle the D.C. traffic, it was going to be a bit of a wait. Luckily, Natasha had brought a book and Clint was clearly enthralled with his phone, so they'd managed to kill the time easily, just like everything else.

Natasha was sitting so her back faced the windows that the reporters had gathered in front of. It went against all her training, but she dared not look behind her. She didn't want to give the paparazzi a full, wide view of her face and she wasn't going to. Instead, she kept her mind on her book and ignored the incessant tapping on the glass and the muffled, frenzied shouts of "Hawkeye!" and "Black Widow!" Clint seemed to do the same with his phone.

Eventually, though, Laura must have needed to put the phone down, leaving Clint with nothing to do. He let out a bit of a groan as he stretched out on the couch – which the concierge didn't seem to appreciate, either. He sat there silently for a few moments and Natasha counted down the seconds in her head until he inevitably bothered her.

_Five, four, three, two…_

"Hey Nat, how long has it been since you texted Stark?"

_Bingo._

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Thirty, forty minutes?"

"Shouldn't they be here by now?" Natasha marked the page she was on and set the book down to rest on her stomach.

"They're probably stuck in traffic," she explained. "Since when were you this impatient?"

Clint didn't give an answer and frankly, Natasha didn't expect one. Over the past few months, she had noticed that Clint had been constantly keeping himself busy, mostly by fixing things around the farm and playing with the kids. She had a feeling this was his way of coping. He needed to keep his mind busy, otherwise, he'd have to think about what Loki did to him. Nat didn't think that this was entirely healthy, but at the same time, she couldn't be one to judge. Her way of coping involved running, kicking, and punching; not exactly healthy either.

Reaching over to the small coffee table in front of them, Natasha grabbed the first magazine she saw and tossed it into Clint's lap. He gave the cover a strange look.

"Read that," she said. "That'll keep you occupied."

"Probably not," Clint said, passing the magazine back to her. "But maybe you'll find something interesting here, dear."

Natasha shot Clint a dirty look at the use of the affectionate term he reserved solely for Laura but once she got a look at the cover, she understood why. Although most of the cover was taken up by a picture of one of the Kardashian sisters, a little box in the right-hand corner of the cover had a candid photo of her and Clint walking together, presumably after the Battle of New York given their disheveled appearance and the fact that she could see what looked like Thor behind them. The caption underneath read, "Hawkeye and Black Widow: Avengers Power Couple?" Nat couldn't help it. She burst out laughing, further earning the ire of the concierge.

First, if the Avengers had a power couple, it would be Steve and Tony, hands down. Not that the press would know it, given that Steve was still in the closet about his bisexuality and Tony (for understandable reasons) was respecting that even though Tony probably wanted more than anything to be able to run through the streets, telling the world that he was banging Captain America. Second, the media wouldn't be the first ones to assume that she and Clint were together.

For years it had been a rumor around S.H.I.E.L.D. that she and Clint were a couple. If it got brought up in front of them, they'd calmly correct the person, but for the most part, they just found it funny. Although the list of people that knew it was limited, Clint's heart belonged to Laura and only Laura. He honestly couldn't picture anything else. Natasha, meanwhile…

Well, her heart got left out in the cold a while ago and she highly doubted the person it belonged to would ever come back for it.

Steering her mind away from such dour thoughts, Natasha tossed the magazine back at Clint and nudged him with her foot. He playfully smacked her on the leg, which caused her to respond with further attacks by her feet. Very loudly, the concierge cleared his throat and gave the two of them a stern look. Nat let out a chuckle while Clint pushed her feet out of his lap. She couldn't help but think that what she said to Loki all those months couldn't ring any truer than it was now. Love was for children and she and Clint got on like toddlers at best.

Pulling herself to sit up, Natasha could hear a commotion going on outside. Risking a glance out the window, she could see that most of the press had turned their attention away from them, far more interested in something happening on the street behind them. That could only mean one thing.

"They're here."

Natasha slipped her boots back on and gathered up her book and coat. Clint stood up, straightening out his jacket and pocketing his phone. For a few moments, nothing happened as the calls – mostly for Stark but Nat could hear a few "Hulks" and "Captain Americas" thrown in there – swelled outside. Then the front doors of the hotel opened, and Stark stepped through, blowing a kiss to his adoring public and waving as he left the cameras' view. Beside him was a blonde woman who was wearing what appeared to be a federally-issued windbreaker (Department of Homeland Security, Nat noted from the insignia) and a t-shirt that advertised the band the Veronicas. Steve was quick to follow his boyfriend and Col. Rhodes and Dr. Banner followed behind them. A bald black man and a brunette white woman pulled up the rear. Nat noticed that the brunette paused to scan the crowd before shutting the doors.

Getting up and crossing the room, Stark took notice of Natasha's approach and held open his arms. Nat was slightly surprised to get such a warm welcome, especially from Tony Stark of all people, but she went along with it anyway.

"Romanoff," he said. "We're still calling you that, right?"

"For now," she tried to tease but her tone faded fast. All at once she was hit with the pungent scent of alcohol. It was so strong that she could feel her stomach churn a little bit. She carefully moved so that her lips were right next to his ear and spoke lowly as to not alarm anyone. "It's a little early to be hitting the bottle, don't you think?"

Stark pulled back and frowned. Natasha raised her eyebrows as if to say, "are you going to do something about it?" He shook his head, seemingly pleading no contest before gesturing to the woman next to him.

"Allow me to introduce you to your successor," he said. "Romanoff, this is my assistant, Lara Conroy. Conroy, meet Natalie Rushman." Natasha rolled her eyes and extended a hand out to Conroy.

"Natasha Romanoff," she corrected. "It's a pleasure."

"Likewise," Lara said. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Let me guess," Natasha said. "Mostly Stark bitching me out for spying on him and taking away his boy toy?" Lara grinned.

"Yeah, mostly," she laughed before turning to look behind her. "You know Bruce and Steve obviously."

"Obviously," Natasha agreed before turning to Bruce. "Dr. Banner."

"Agent Romanoff," he said.

"You look well," she commented.

"I'm feeling well, too," He said. "I haven't had an incident since…" Natasha knew what he meant. He didn't need to say anymore.

"Glad to hear it." She turned and saw Rogers finishing up whatever he was saying to Clint, giving him a pat on the shoulder. (Surprisingly, Clint didn't flinch, Natasha noticed.) When Steve looked at her, Nat held her arms out to her fellow Super Soldier. "If I'm hugging one of you, I'm going to hug you both."

Steve stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Again, Natasha moved her head, so her mouth was close to his ear.

"How much has he had?" Steve didn't seem too shocked at the inquiry.

"He had one glass on the plane," he said. "But I think he had some before we left. I've been pushing water on him, though, and I'm going to make him take a nap as soon as we get to our room." Natasha pulled back and gave Steve a small nod. There was a worry deep in her stomach that there may be something serious going on that mixed with the memories of Stark's "last" birthday bash, but she squashed them down. It had only been two minutes. She needed to observe the situation further before she jumped to any radical conclusions.

* * *

A short while later, everyone had gathered in one of the hotel's conference rooms to go over PR strategy. Once everyone got to their seats, it didn't take long for Freeman to get started.

"Alright," the man said with a broad but nonetheless genuine-seeming smile on his face. "Glad to see that everyone could make it. I understand not all of you have too much experience dealing with the public and the media, so we'll try to make it as simple and understandable as possible." The assembled group nodded and made noises of an agreement to that. "Now, before we get started, is there anything any of you think I should be aware of?"

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

"Just if there are certain questions you don't want to be asked," Freeman explained. "Something you'd rather keep private, those sorts of things."

Steve was surprised by how fast Tony's had shot up. For a second, Steve worried that he'd say something he shouldn't. Luckily, that ended up being unfounded.

"Steve and I are in a relationship and we'd rather keep it private from the press." Steve relaxed as he heard how even and straightforward Tony's tone was. Maybe that nap had sobered him up a little bit.

"Okay," Freeman held up his hands in a reassuring gesture. "I understand. No judgment, no pressure, but you know you're not going to be able to hide that from the public forever, right?"

"We know," Tony assured. "We just want to keep it to ourselves, for now, right?"

"Right," Steve agreed. Although they hadn't talked about it in depth, he was glad he and Tony were on the same page about how open they wanted to be with their relationship at that point in time. So far, the only people who knew were the other Avengers, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Lara, and now Duane Freeman. Steve still had some lingering fears as a result of growing up in the first half of the twentieth century, he was slowly working through it. Having the assurances from the Avengers, War Machine, a former federal agent, and Pepper Potts that anyone who gave them trouble for their sexualities would get messed up helped with that.

"Alright," Freeman agreed. "Anything else you'd like not to be discussed?"

"Just the usual stuff," Tony said. "Other than that, I'm good."

"Me, too," Steve said when Freeman turned his gaze over to him.

"Alright then," Freeman said. "I'll just take note of that."

"And I'll make sure that note is seen by everyone and their mothers," Lara assured.

"Is there anything else anyone wants to disclose? Speak now or forever hold your peace." Steve didn't miss the pointed look Freeman gave Natasha and Clint and neither of the spies missed it either.

"You don't have to give us that look," Natasha said.

"What look?"

"The one that says, 'I know you both have shady pasts, so just come out with the worst of it already." Freeman didn't argue with Clint. In fact, he looked a little embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," he said rather honestly. "I don't mean to pry or accuse you in any way…"

"But you know we're the problem children who could mess this all up," Clint finished. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"No," Freeman assured. "I'm doing this to protect you. If there's something you don't want to talk about, now's the time to say something."

"Wouldn't that be counterintuitive?" Bruce asked. "I mean, the whole point of talking to the press is to show the public that they can trust us to keep them safe. How can we do that if we're lying to them and avoiding certain topics?"

"No one is lying," Freeman said before Lara cut in.

"It isn't an issue of trust," she explained. "It's just an issue of each of your own personal comfort levels. If there's something that if asked about would cause you emotional distress, we need to know about it so we can tell the reporters not to bring it up.

"That won't stop them from going off script," Natasha pointed out.

"No, it won't," Lara admitted. "But it gives us grounds to raise hell with the corporate offices."

"Right," Freeman agreed. "That's why if there is something you don't want to be asked about, you have to tell us now." Clint and Natasha exchanged quick looks with each other.

"There isn't anything I can think of," Clint said. Natasha shrugged.

"I'm a master manipulator," she said. "If there's something I don't want to talk about, I can deflect without anyone even noticing." Freeman seemed satisfied with that and turned his attention over to Bruce.

"The worst thing I've done was destroy Harlem," he said. "The public already knows about that, so it's not really like I have anything to hide." Freeman nodded.

"If that's all," he said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Freeman looked like he was going to say something else when the conference room door suddenly opened. Inside stepped six singing hotel employees, one of them carrying a small sheet cake.

_"When you've grown up my dears_

_ And are as old as I_

_ You'll often ponder of the years_

_ That roll so swiftly by…"_

"Whoa," Tony said, cutting the choir off. "What is this? Why are you singing?"

"Wait," one of the singers said. "Isn't this supposed to be where the birthday party is?" All gazes turned to Lara.

"**I swear on my life** I hit 'cancel' on that rewards card," she stressed. "Anyways, what the hell kind of birthday song is that?"

"The kind that's in the public domain," the hotel employee holding the cake said. They set the plate down in the center of the conference table. "Anyways, the Hay-Adams hotel wishes our honored guest, Geena Davis, a wonderful day on this, her fifty-sixth birthday." The employees then promptly filed out of the room. Tony shot Lara a sharp look.

"Geena Davis? Really?" Lara shrugged.

"The site needed a name and IMDb said it was her birthday…"

Seeing as the cake was already paid for, no one saw any harm in digging into it anyways. Steve was glad when he saw Tony reach for a piece. Sugar probably wasn't the best thing to throw on top of alcohol, at least he was getting food in him. The rest of the meeting went smoothly with mostly everyone enjoying the cake (though, it came off as too sweet to those with enhanced senses), Lara looking at the food longingly, and Freeman going over the basic dos and don'ts of interacting with the press. They finished up in just under two hours and as they walked back to their room, Steve began to try to talk Tony into taking another nap.

* * *

**Thank you to Queen E for leaving kudos on AO3! It really means a lot! :)**

**Given that this was an ultra-long chapter (made by stitching the remains of two smaller chapters together) I'm not going to put too much in the way of this authors note. If you like, please favorite, follow, review, comment, and/or subscribe.**

**Remember kids, if you're a vampire like me, you should never go out into the sun.**

* * *

**Originally posted to FFN on 6/21/19.**


	4. Early Birds

**Happy Canada Day to all Canadians! Enjoy the freedom you politely asked for and was given rather than just throw a tantrum like a spoiled toddler and take it yourself! (Looking at you, America!)**

* * *

**Sunday, January 22nd, 2012**

As it turned out, the five AM wake up call that Lara had asked the hotel's services for wasn't necessary. She was woken up by the sounds of "Walk Like and Egyptian" coming muffled from the inside of her messenger bag. Worried her brother was having car trouble again, she got up to answer the phone. Looking at the number displayed on the screen, she saw that it had a New York area code. Thinking there was no real harm in seeing who it was, Lara hit the "accept call" button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Lara. I di-" Lara hit the "end call" button faster than she had hit anything in her life. She had no idea why Dante was calling her this early in the morning, all she knew was she didn't want to hear it. Unfortunately, her hang up didn't get the message across. Dante must have immediately re-dialed her number because the unknown number popped up again within seconds. Lara rejected that call and two more before she was able to properly power off her phone. She returned the device to her messenger bag and climbed back into bed.

For about twenty minutes she laid awake before she realized she wasn't going to fall back to sleep. Seeing as it was only thirty minutes or so before she needed to be up anyways, she gave up on sleep and started to get ready. Having showered the night before, all Lara really needed to do was get dressed and put on her makeup. By the time she finished, the hotel's phone rang, notifying her of her scheduled wake up call.

Breakfast didn't start until six and they didn't need to be out the door until eight. This ensured everyone had a few hours to eat and get ready. However, since Lara wasn't going in front of any cameras herself, she had very little to do to get ready comparatively. So, with all the extra time on her hands, she decided to do it productively and headed out the door to do her job.

Tony woke up around one. He didn't have any nightmares (at least, none that he could remember) but he still woke up feeling unsettled. His nerves were firing off nothing but warning signals, but there was no clear danger; just the darkness of an unfamiliar hotel room. He tried cuddling a little closer to Steve, like pouring sugar on an open wound; it did nothing to help and maybe made things worse. He couldn't stop worrying that there was some unforeseen danger in the room, waiting to harm him and more importantly, Steve.

Eventually, he couldn't take it. He had to get up and look around. Slipping out of the room and being careful to softly close the door behind him as not to wake Steve, he turned the flashlight on his phone on and began to meticulously scan the room. He still couldn't see the danger his mind seemed intent on warning him of. Maybe it never existed. Still, it didn't hurt to check.

Slowly, he made his way across the room to the kitchenette. He flipped on the light above the oven, providing some amount of light, but not so much that he would be overwhelmed or hurt his eyes. The parlor attached to the kitchen held no unseen evils either. He could see straight out the large panoramic window that faced H Street and the White House. No danger outside either. Feeling reassured, he put his back against the wall and sunk down to sit on the floor.

Running his fingers across the cool tile floor beneath him, Tony couldn't help but wonder what the hell was wrong with him. It's not like he wanted to be like this. He wanted to be able to sleep through the night, but he just couldn't. Even having Steve by his side didn't seem to do anything to help. All that he found that's helped was using alcohol to numb himself. He knew that wasn't healthy. He knew that if he wasn't careful, this could turn into an addiction, but it was keeping him disconnected to what happened. If he could stay disconnected from what happened, he could make it through the day. That's at least what he told himself.

However, at that moment he had nothing to keep him disconnected. He had already checked the cabinets when they came in, before Steve had whisked him off to the bedroom for a nap. No complementary wine and nothing else alcoholic whatsoever, just bottles of sparkling water that cost twenty bucks a piece. There was Listerine in the bathroom, but Tony didn't consider himself that desperate. At least, not yet. To distract himself, Tony opened his phone and began to look through the Ultron project files. Some mindless coding was probably just what he needed to calm his paranoid mind.

…Or it would just keep him up longer. At least, that's what he realized when he heard knocking at the hotel room door and looked up at the clock on the stove to find it was just a little past five AM. He let out a curse and saved what he was working on before getting up and heading for the door. Through the peephole, he could see that Lara was standing on the other side, honestly looking tired and bored. What the hell, he might as well entertain her.

"You know, I wasn't expecting you for another hour," he said as he opened the door.

"And I wasn't expecting you to be up for another hour." Her eyes scanned his body up and down. "Or wearing clothes." Tony had on a baggy t-shirt that may or may not have originally belonged to Steve and a pair of sweatpants that had "Stark Industries" going up one of the legs. It wasn't like he was embarrassed to be seen in those pajamas, but secretly he wished he had gone to bed with fewer clothes on. Steve, too. Tony frowned.

"What do you want?"

"I just came to give you your morning wake up call," Lara said. "You know, that's kind of my job."

"Not for another hour," Tony pointed out. Lara pulled her phone out of the messenger bag at her hip.

"Tell that to my ex," she said. "He woke me up with repeated phone calls and the only way I got him to stop was by turning off my phone. If you want to complain to anyone, the person you should is just one tap of the power button away."

"Shit, he's calling you now?" Lara nodded in confirmation. "Let me see your phone."

"I was joking," Lara said. "Don't actually answer him. It'll only encourage his behavior."

"Oh, I know," Tony said. "But I can get your phone to block calls from another, specific phone. That way they can't use something like WhatsApp to message you anonymously or try to mask their phone number."

"Ugh," Lara groaned. "I thought they got rid of *67."

"Nope," Tony said, popping the "p." "They just made it more complicated." Lara pushed the phone into his hands.

"Take it," she said. "He's only called me a handful of times so far, but already I'm annoyed beyond all rational comparison."

"Don't hand me things," he grumbled as he stepped away from the door. Lara followed him inside and shut it. Tony powered on the phone and was about to ask for the specific phone number when his ears were suddenly assaulted by the sound of mid-80s pop rock.

"The Bangles?" he questioned. "Really?"

"Hey," Lara said. "Susanna Hoffs is a gift unto this world, and I will not hear otherwise. Understand?" Tony just gave her a look of disgust before hitting the "reject call" button.

Unfortunately, Tony was subjected to the "wonderful gift" of Susanna Hoffs several more times before he was able to effectively block the number. It wasn't hard, just somewhat needlessly complicated. He had to have JARVIS trace the number back to the phone company it was registered to, and then hack into their systems to get the phone's specific model number. Once he had those things, it was just a simple matter of hacking into Lara's phone and programming it to automatically reject calls originating from that specific model number. After that, the music stopped.

"I did it," he announced, sliding the phone across the counter to give back to her.

"Hallelujah," she remarked. "Seriously, thanks. That would have driven me crazy."

"Well, I can easily see the Bangles driving anyone crazy." Lara glared at him.

"Shut up," she muttered as she slid her phone back into her messenger bag. "So, what are you doing up this early? Out of the two of you, I thought Steve would be the morning person."

_And you would be right._ Tony sighed.

"Woke up," he explained. "Couldn't fall back to sleep."

"What time did you wake up?" Tony really wished she didn't ask that.

"Early enough." He had hoped that would have been enough for her, but the hard look he was getting told him otherwise.

"Specific number, Tony," she said. Right then he knew he had lost the battle.

"One." Lara let out a groan of annoyance. "To be fair, I spent most of yesterday sleeping."

"You spent most of yesterday wasted." Tony gave her a hard look. After all, it's hard to deny something everyone knows is true. Lara looked away for a second to gather her thoughts before directing her gaze at Tony. "Look, I'm not going to make a big deal about this, but can you please just lay off the sauce today? I think we can all agree we don't need that headache on top of everything else."

Tony looked away and thought about it for a moment. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Still, though, he didn't like being called out on his drinking like this, especially when it wasn't even a problem. He looked back at Lara who was waiting expectantly.

"You have my word." Lara nodded acceptance.

"Good," she said. "And now that we've gotten that out of the way, why don't you start working on getting ready?"

"Because I still have another hour before I technically need to be up?"

"Early bird gets the worm," Lara said.

"That saying sounds so weird when you say it," Tony deflected. "Something with the accent."

"Would you rather I say it in French?" Lara asked. "Con comme une valise sans poinée."

"That's not what it translates out to." Obviously, Lara knew that.

"Well, then you better get ready before I butcher some more translations, **andouille**." Tony didn't bat an eye.

"Casse couille." Lara feigned offense. Tony ignored her and turned back towards the bedroom. "If I must get ready now, can I at least wake up Steve? He'll make the process so much more enjoyable."

"Just don't spend all your time screwing each other," Lara warned. "I do **not** want to have to break that up." Tony wanted to respond with an obscene gesture but decided to let it go. He had already won the war. No need to rub her face in it.

Tony was careful to open the door as quietly as possible and only allowed it to open far enough so that way he could squeeze through without the light from outside rousing Steve. Once inside, he shut it again and slowly started padding over to the edge of the bed that Steve was facing. Getting down on his knees, Tony was face-to-face with his sleeping boyfriend. Steve's face was so serene when he slept. It was like all ninety-three years of his life melted off his face. He was so beautiful that Tony could kiss him.

So, he did.

Leaning in closer, Tony gently pressed his lips against Steve's. Since Steve was still asleep, Tony tried not to be too forceful, but the gentle whisper of a chaste kiss he ended up giving him wasn't enough to wake him. Unsatisfied, Tony broke off that kiss and gave Steve another one. This time, he applied a bit more pressure to Steve's lips and was rewarded with the low sound of "mmph."

Tony pulled back and watched Steve's eyelids flutter. It always took Steve a few moments to wake up, but once he did, he was awake and alert in an instant. His blue eye's met Tony's and a smile came across his face.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey." Tony returned his smile.

"That was a rather pleasant way to wake up." Tony brought a hand up to slowly stroke Steve's cheek.

"That's what I was hoping for." Steve caught Tony's hand in his and held his knuckles to his lips for a long moment. Releasing Tony's hand, Steve smiled.

"I wouldn't mind another." In moments Tony's lips were crashing against Steve's again. This time, Steve was conscious enough to respond back. It made the kiss that much more enjoyable.

Tony slid his tongue across Steve's lips and Steve opened his mouth in kind. By this point, Tony had already explored every inch of Steve's mouth and knew the exact spots to run his own tongue over to make him moan and groan. Steve melted a bit but quickly retaliated by pushing Tony's tongue back and invading his mouth. Tony liked where this was going.

Then the door opened.

"God, what did I say about screwing?" Steve immediately pulled back, face flushed red. Tony couldn't help the rise of the corners of his lips. That was until Lara hit him in the face with the t-shirt Steve had discarded during the night. "Come on, get up."

Steve sat up and offered Tony a hand. At least he was being nice to him. Standing up, he turned to Lara.

"How about this," he said. "I have the key to all the rooms. If you stop harassing me to get ready, we can go wake up the others." Lara's face lit up. Yeah, he thought she'd like that.

* * *

Natasha moved her feet carefully, trying to follow the instructor's words to the T.

_"Un deux trois_

_ Un deux trois_

_ Un deux trois_

_ Un deux trois"_

She kept the rhythm in her head, moving with exact precision. The training was hard, and she struggled to keep a balance between perfection and failure. Failure meant death. Perfection was something far worse. Average was survival. So, she did her best not to stand out for either good or bad. With every plié, balancé, pirouette, kick, jab, lunge… Wait, were they dancing or fighting? Honestly, Natasha couldn't tell anymore.

All at once the rhythm stopped. The stark silence drilled into her ears. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something wasn't right here.

Natasha raised her hand to the side of her head. There, she could feel the handle of a knife. She'd rather have a gun when facing the unknown, but she'd take what she could get. Wrapping her hand around the handle, she waited for the moment to strike.

Within moments she could feel an unfamiliar presence coming close to her. She surged forward, pinning the potential predator now turned prey against the wall hard. She brought the knife up and positioned it inches from Stark's eye, ready to…

Slowly, she snapped out of it. Loosening her fingers around the knife, she allowed it to fall to the ground. She took a deep breath as she let go of Stark and directed her gaze downwards. Her mind ran through the list of breathing techniques that Laura had taught her. **God**, she wasn't expecting that.

"You okay," a wary, slightly accented female voice said. Natasha looked up to see Stark's assistant and found that the question was directed at Stark.

"I'm fine," he assured before turning to Natasha. "You?" She gave a quick nod.

"Fine," she assured. "You startled me a bit."

"Sorry," Natasha raised her eyebrows. Just as she was about to apologize, Stark beat her to it. Yet another thing she hadn't been expecting. A little dumbstruck and still slightly embarrassed by her reaction, Nat just gave another nod and muttered something along the lines of "no need." Tony gave an understanding nod in response.

"Okay," Lara said carefully. "We were just coming to tell you that it was time to wake up…"

"You were going to prank me, weren't you?" Lara's eyes went wide as if she was expecting to get acid thrown in her face.

"No."

"Yes," Tony admitted.

"Kind of," Lara said reluctantly. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"It's alright," she assured. "I'm fine now."

"Okay," Tony said. "We'll leave you be." Tony slowly started stepping towards the door and gestured for Lara to follow him.

"Sorry," she apologized before scurrying up on Stark's six. Natasha shut the door behind them and pressed her head against its cool wood. Carefully, she found her center again.

* * *

Bruce didn't dream anymore. He hadn't been able to since he was exposed to Gamma Radiation. Sleep was nothing but a long expanse of black until his eyelids inevitably fluttered open, allowing light in. One would think that kind of sleep would be merciful, especially for someone with his history. However, for Bruce, it wasn't. He didn't dream, but he could still think and sometimes his thinking would be enough to drive a sane person mad. He wasn't sure what that said about him, but it probably wasn't good.

Surprisingly for a second, he thought he heard voices; ones other than that of the Other Guy that inhabited his head. He panicked for a moment but calmed once he realized that the voices were coming from not only outside of his head but outside of his room as well. Slowly, he pried his eyes open.

"…sure, that's a good idea?" Bruce pieced together what the voice said. The door dampened the sound enough to where they could barely be heard clearly. It also didn't help that they were whispering. "I mean, you don't know what his reaction is going to be."

"What," he heard the second voice said. It was lower than the first. "You afraid that he's going to Hulk out?"

"No," the first voice said firmly. Based on the slight accent that she spoke with, Bruce could guess that it was Lara. "But given that you almost got stabbed in the eye…"

"Romanoff's jumpy," the voice he could now guess was Tony's said. "I should have expected that. Besides, you almost stabbed Bruce in the eye when you first met him. You're not one to talk."

Bruce could only imagine what Lara responded to that with. Sighing, he got up and opened the door to his bedroom.

"It's too late," he said, taking both Lara and Tony by surprise. "You guys woke me up before you could even prank me. You were going to prank me, right?"

"No."

"Yes," Lara admitted.

"Kind of," Tony said somewhat reluctantly. Bruce shook his head.

"Well, I'm awake now," he said. "Looks like you'll have to try again tomorrow."

Tony and Lara looked slightly disappointed as the reminded him to come down to the dining room for breakfast and promptly left his suite. Well, at least now Bruce knew to expect them. It was probably safer that way.

* * *

Clint was on the two kids and a farm sleep schedule, which meant he was usually in bed by nine o'clock and up and at 'em by 4:15. So that meant he probably up and ready long before anyone else was and since he had no kids and no farm to take care of, that left him with nothing to do. At first, he spent his time pacing the room but found that his thoughts drifted easily to Loki and what he had done to him. Needing something to keep him focused – anything, really – he took the sheets off the bed and started tying them together. Yes, he realized how expensive those sheets were and yes, he knew the maids weren't going to be pleased with him, but it calmed his mind and made for a mostly sturdy rope.

That's when he got an idea…

First, he secured his make-shift rope to one of the legs of the bed and opened his bedroom window. Carefully, he unscrewed the screen and threw the other end of the rope out. It ended up just barely being long enough to safely reach the alleyway below. Next, he gently knocked over some lamps – guiding them carefully to the ground so that way they wouldn't smash and cause him to owe the hotel more money than he would ever see in his life and tossed some throw pillows around the room. He also to a moment to flip over an armchair that sat in the corner of the room.

For very secret spy reasons, Clint knew how to make fake blood out of KY jelly (which the hotel had so kindly provided.) He whipped up the recipe quick and started smearing it on the walls. Then, he pushed the mattress halfway off the bedframe and tilted the headboard forward a little bit. He didn't have a lot of cash on him, but the hotel did provide plenty of reading material. He emptied out his smallest suitcase and stuffed as many books as he could inside. Feeling satisfied that the case felt heavy enough to be carrying a few hundred thousand dollars, he strategically placed a few bills so they would stick out of the case and shut the lid.

The last few steps that he took were to flip the TV to a channel that was nothing but snow and open the door connecting his room to the main hallway, so it was slightly ajar. Now all he had to do was wait.

Within a few minutes, he heard two voices approaching from down the hall. He recognized them as Stark's and his assistants. He couldn't hear what they were saying until they walked into the room.

"That's weird," he heard Lara say. "The door is open." Stark must have shrugged it off.

"He's a super-spy," he said. "He could probably handle the average cat burglar like it's nothing."

"Still, doesn't it seem odd…" Clint heard the bedroom door creak open. It was shortly followed by a sharp gasp.

"What the hell?" Stark exclaimed.

"Oh my God…"

"What the fuck happened?" Clint tried desperately not to laugh, but their reactions were making it hard.

"Oh my God," Lara said again, this time sounding like she was trying to catch her breath. "We need to call the police."

"Is Barton…?" There was a moment's pause as it sounded like Stark took a couple of steps. "What is that?"

"No!" Lara shrilly screamed as she rushed forward, presumably to stop Stark. "Don't touch anything! Let's just get out of here! We need to call 911 **now**!"

Clint chose that exact moment to push open the closet door slightly and fall lifelessly to the ground. Stark and Lara screamed at the top of their lungs. Clint kept himself from laughing by reminding himself that he was going to be the one to clean the KY jelly/blood off the walls.

* * *

In the end, Natasha heard the screaming from across the hall and came running. Immediately recognizing that it was KY jelly on the walls – not actual blood – and that Clint had no obvious injuries, she smacked him on the side of the head with a throw pillow and hauled him to his feet. Both Lara and Tony gaped, surprised that Clint was okay, and they had been tricked.

"Stop being an ass," she commanded, thumping him on the shoulder.

"Oh, come on," Clint said. "It was all in good fun."

"That was not funny," Lara gasped, clutching her chest as if she were about to have a heart attack.

"Please don't tell me you filmed this," Tony – surprisingly enough – plead.

"No," Clint assured. "I wish I had, though. I couldn't see what you guys looked like when you walked into the room."

"Fucking scared shitless," Lara said. "That's what."

"My bad," was the closest thing to an apology it sounded like Clint was going to give right now. Natasha gestured to the exit.

"Alright," she said. "You two done trying to prank everyone awake?" She didn't wait to see Tony and Lara's nods of the agreement before telling them to get out. They both complied wordlessly, still seeming somewhat stunned by what had just happened. Natasha closed the door behind them and turned back to Clint with arms crossed. "What the hell was that?"

"It was just a joke, Natasha," Clint said. "Calm down."

"No," Natasha said. "It wasn't just a joke. Not to them. They thought you had actually been murdered."

"I wasn't even hurt," Clint pointed out. "If they had looked at me for longer than two seconds, they would have known."

"Yeah," Natasha said. "But you also smeared sex jelly on the walls and tore the room apart. What else were they supposed to think? How were they supposed to know that this was even a joke?"

"To be fair," Clint said. "I thought you'd be the first person to walk into the room. You would have – and did – see right through this."

"That's because I know you, Clint," Natasha said. "They don't." Clint looked down.

"Right." Natasha sighed and looked at him straight on.

"What is this, Clint?" she asked. "Why did you do this?" He shrugged.

"Woke up early," he said. "Needed something to do."

"So, you set up a fake murder scene?" The expression in her eyes clearly communicated that she didn't understand how that was as follows. From the look on Clint's face, Natasha could tell he was trying to figure out how to justify it as well.

"It was the funniest thing I could think of," was the best he could come up with. "And I could use the laugh." Natasha frowned.

"What's wrong, Clint?" Clint sighed and tried to sit down on the mattress. He had forgotten that he had slid it half-off the bedframe and slumped straight down to a spot on the floor. Undeterred, he just made himself comfortable where he landed.

"I can't get Loki out of my head." With those words, Natasha's frown turned into a look of sympathy. Slowly, she lowered herself down so she could sit next to him but refrained from touching him. She didn't want to startle him or make him uncomfortable. "I don't know what it is," Clint continued. "But every free second, I have, my mind just drifts back to when it happened. I can't stand it, so I try to keep myself busy. Back at the nest, it's easy, but here?" Natasha slowly mirrored Clint's position, pulling her legs up to her chest and directing her gaze to her feet.

"Does Lisa know about this?" she asked, using their codename for Laura.

"Of course," Clint said. "You know better than anyone that nothing can be kept hidden from that woman." Natasha had to laugh at that. "Besides, even if I needed to, I don't think I'd be able to keep this from her. Not with the dreams I've been having."

"Dreams?" Clint took a deep breath.

"You remember that vision I told you about?" he asked. "The one Loke made me see?" How could she forget? Clint was forced to watch as Laura and the kids were killed in less than a minute and were forced to relive the nastier parts of Budapest. Just hearing about it was terrifying enough. She couldn't imagine being forced to watch it repeatedly. What made it even worse was that he was apparently still plagued by the vision now even months later when he was out of Loki's control.

"Clint," she started to say.

"That's not the only thing I see," he cut her off. "There are other things interspersed in there. I see what I did while I was under Loki's control; I see myself betraying S.H.I.E.L.D.; everything that I hold dear. I see myself hurting innocent people; killing them. Coulson…" He trailed off there for a moment as if determining what he should say. He swallowed hard. "I see Coulson a lot."

"You didn't kill him," Natasha said. "That was all Loki."

"Yeah," Clint said. "But I was a part of it."

"No," Natasha said. "You weren't."

Things were silent for a while. The tension between them was palpable. Clint seemed like he wanted to argue against that, but deep down somewhere, he knew Natasha's words to be true. He wasn't responsible for Loki's actions and he needed to stop blaming himself. Nat hoped that those three words would be enough to get her point across. She heard Clint sigh as he turned his attention to the wall beside them.

"I should probably start cleaning this up," he remarked.

"Yeah," Natasha said as she stood up. "Good luck with that."

"You're not going to help me?" She scoffed at the thought.

"You made this mess," she said. "You get to clean it up."

"That's so mean," Clint complained.

"Well, that's what you get for being an ass." Natasha then left the room, returning the finger that she was almost certain Clint was giving behind her.

* * *

**Thank you to mfaerie32 for the review on FFN! It really means a lot!**

**I'm an American by the way, in case that wasn't clear. I don't have the most understandable sense of humor...**

**Fun fact! You can actually make fake blood out of KY Jelly! I know because that's what they use on _the Walking Dead_, particularly when they need to cover an actor in blood and guts so that they're not completely sticky all day.**

**Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and if you can, please leave a comment or review! No pressure!**

**Remember kids, murder pranks never go wrong. Just search "Murdered My Girlfriend Prank Corey Scherer" on Youtube! That prank went great!**

* * *

**Originally posted on FFN on 7/1/19.**


	5. You're Kind of a Schmuck

**I have not seen _Spiderman: Far From Home_ yet, and I'm probably not going to until sometime next week after all the Fourth of July craziness has calmed down. Please do not put any spoilers in your review, thank you.**

* * *

**Sunday, January 22nd, 2012**

Not even one whole hour had passed before Tony had broken the promise he had made to Lara. To be fair, it's not like he could help it. That little prank that Barton had pulled had scared the living daylights out of him. He could feel himself shaking a little bit. Besides, technically Tony had promised to lay off the sauce, not to abstain from drinking altogether. So, one drink to calm his nerves wasn't that big of a deal, right? Also, the early hour didn't matter as they were practically giving out mimosas' downstairs. He just had to finish it before Lara caught him. No big deal.

To be safe, though, when he got up from the breakfast table to get seconds, he went back up to the mimosa table and poured the contents of one glass into the flask that fit perfectly into the interior pocket of his blazer. You know, just in case he needed it later.

"Good news," Lara said once everyone had piled into the limousine, dressed and looking pretty for the cameras. "Your first interview is going to be pre-taped, not live."

"And that's good because…?" Bruce asked.

"If you say something or mess up in a pre-taped interview, we can ask the producers to edit it out and not use it," Lara explained. "Not as much pressure as there would be doing it live."

"Most of these are pre-taped, right?" Tony asked. Lara nodded.

"Either pre-taped or print," she continued. "I believe the only live ones are the Q&A panel later today and the _Today Show_ appearance tomorrow."

"Speaking of which," Freeman interjected. "I should pass these out." He reached into his briefcase to pull out a stack of packets. Each one had a specific team member's name written across it in black Sharpie. He handed them out to each person and Tony could see Steve's eyes narrow as he scanned his over.

"What are these?" he asked.

"These are the questions each interviewer is going to ask you," Freeman explained.

"As long as they stick to the script," Lara pointed out.

"Right," Freeman agreed. "If you get asked something that's not on the script, you can either roll with it or choose not to comment."

"We'd rather you do the latter, though," Lara stressed.

"All of these are in the order we're doing them?" Clint asked as he flipped through his packet.

"Yes," Freeman confirmed. "All of them are there. The only exclusion is the Q&A panel you'll be doing later today. That one will be live and open to the public."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Natasha asked. "I mean, you open something to the public and the public usually finds a way to mess it up."

"That's not necessarily true," Freeman said.

"Public restrooms," Tony suggested.

"Public buses," Lara added.

"Public schools," Clint said.

"Public radio," Steve continued.

"Public healthcare," Bruce responded.

"Alright," Freeman said. "I get the point, but it's not something we have to worry about. There are going to be members of the venue's staff screening everyone in line before they get up to the microphone. If they're going to ask something weird or creepy, they'll get kicked out of line."

"That won't stop people from lying, though," Natasha pointed out.

"True," Freeman said. "But it's a risk we'll have to take." Natasha didn't seem convinced but nodded anyway. Freeman looked to the rest of the group. "Remember, just relax and be yourselves. The public wants to get to know the Avengers. I know we've been stressing over worst-case scenarios, but we also don't want you to be uptight and guarded. Just smile and be at ease. It will make the process go much easier."

They all seemed to agree before going about their own business and reading the packets. However, a rather anxious silence seemed to fall over the car. Tony felt a hand slide into his. He turned to look at Steve.

"Hey," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Steve said before a moment's pause. "You nervous?" Tony scoffed at the idea.

"Of course not," he dismissed. "This is all old hat to me. You?"

"No," Steve said. "I'm more upset over the fact that we won't be able to do this for the rest of the day." Tony's lips quirked upwards.

"You know, we probably have enough time to squeeze one last kiss in there." Steve reflected his smile.

"Really?" Tony shrugged.

"Maybe more than one," he leaned in.

"Definitely more than one." Steve closed the distance between them. Their lips crashed together softly, but before they could allow it to get more heated someone (Clint) gave a cry of "gross! Adults making out!" They broke apart under the sniggers of the other Avengers. Tony gave them all a none too pleased look.

* * *

They arrived at the studio right on time. Tony had hoped that this would start them off on the right foot. That was until one of the producers led them to the green room.

"Come on in," the producer said. "Make yourselves comfortable. Miss Everhart will be ready for you in just a few minutes."

"I'm sorry, who?" The producer raised an eyebrow as Tony turned around.

"Miss Everhart," she said. "Christine Everhart? Why is that a problem."

"No," Tony assured. "It won't be a problem at all, ma'am." The producer eyed him skeptically but nodded.

"Alright," she said. "Just sit tight. Someone will be with you in a moment." She then left the room, shutting the door behind her. Tony turned around to see Lara staring at him sharply with a raised eyebrow. He couldn't believe it, but he had found someone who managed to look scarier than Pepper when she was mad at him.

"So, what's wrong with Christine Everhart?" Tony took notice of the way she slowly enunciated her words, so they came out clearly without an accent.

"Nothing." Lara didn't buy it.

"Are you sure?" She asked. "Because that didn't seem like nothing. Do you know her?"

"Yes," Tony confirmed. "But it's nothing really." Lara rolled her eyes.

"Tell me," she said. "Or do I have to hold you down and smack you?"

"Don't threaten me with a good time." Tony looked over at Steve and smiled to let him know it was just a joke. Lara didn't find it amusing, though, as she lightly hit him on the forearm as he sat down next to her. Natasha, meanwhile, rolled her eyes.

"He slept with her three years ago," she said like it was nothing. Lara's eyes went wide.

"What? Why didn't you say anything?"

"What do you mean 'why didn't I say anything?' I just found out!" Lara scoffed.

"I'm pretty sure we told you yesterday that she was the one who was going to be interviewing you guys," she said. "You didn't have a problem with it then.

_I was also drunk yesterday._ Tony felt slightly ashamed that even his own mind couldn't help but point that out.

"Besides," Lara continued. "Her name is in the packet we **just gave you**. Did you even read it?"

"I read the questions," Tony said. "I didn't pay attention to who was conducting the interviews." Lara groaned and dropped her face into her hands.

"Why do you do this to me, Tony?" she said. "Why?"

"Well, you can forget about it because it doesn't matter, I'll still do the interview." Freeman – who had been looking like he'd been trying to get a word in edgewise for about a solid minute – seemed to visibly relax. Tony turned to look at Natasha. "What does matter, though, is how Agent Romanoff knew about that. What, does S.H.I.E.L.D. have a super-secret spy satellite orbiting my house now?" Nat just shrugged.

"Nope," she assured with a popping "p." "I heard about it from Pepper. While you were getting ready to kill yourself via formula one automobile accident, Pepper was complaining to me about the woman and let that little detail slip out." Tony sighed.

"Thank you, Pepper," he said.

"Is this something we need to worry about, though?" Bruce asked.

"Probably not," Freeman assured. "Miss Everhart is a professional. I doubt she'd take any personal problems she might have with Mr. Stark out on him or any of you for that matter."

_Hopefully._ Tony frowned. He didn't feel too hopeful.

Tony turned his gaze over to Steve. The look on his face wasn't too hopeful, either. His blue eyes were full of concern. The most he could do was give him a pat on the back of the hand. He hoped it would be enough to reassure him but given that Steve knew all about his tryst with Miss Everhart, he highly doubted it would.

The producer returned a short time later, calling for Bruce. He got up and followed the woman out of the room along with Freeman and Lara. It went along like that for a while. The producer came back every fifteen to twenty minutes to retrieve another member of the team, going alphabetically by last name. Barton was next, followed by Steve and Romanoff, leaving Tony for last. Tony wasn't nervous at all. He just flipped through the packet, reviewing his answers to the questions.

The only thing that surprised him was how light the questions were. Everhart was usually more hardball than this. Granted the packet said she was working for ABC now, not _Vanity Fair_. Not only did she probably have the reign it in for the major network, but Tony also already had a less-than-stellar relationship with the company since the botched Stark Tower interview. They probably asked her to take it easy on him, not wanting a repeat of that incident. Tony didn't mind. If the reporter did what she was supposed to, he didn't see the interview going too bad, even with their history.

Before Tony knew it, the producer walked into the room and asked him to follow her. He obliged, following her from one end of the hallway to the other. Entering the room, he saw Freeman and Lara sitting at a table out of view of the cameras. He saw Lara give him a small wave (a gesture that was probably meant to reassure him) before he looked to his left and saw Christine Everhart standing to greet him.

"Good morning Mr. Stark," she said pleasantly enough, holding out a hand to him. "It's lovely to see you again. How are you?"

"I'm good. It's nice to see you as well." That was an outright lie but it would be even more of a lie to return it and say it was **lovely** to see her. With a brief handshake, Everhart sat in her seat while the producer hustled over to him with a microphone, clipping it to his shirt and handing the main hardware piece of the device over to him to secure to his belt. After a brief test to ensure it was working, the producer stepped out of the way, allowing him to sit down.

Tony could see Freeman and Lara out of the corner of his eye. Freeman gave him a thumbs up while Lara – despite her anger with him earlier – was trying to look as reassuring as possible. Tony appreciated that as he focused his gaze on the woman in front of him. The producer told them they were rolling, and a plastic smile came across Everhart's face.

"So, Mr. Stark, it's wonderful to see you again." Tony smiled and nodded as if he agreed with that statement and threw a quick "thank you" in there. "It's especially wonderful under these circumstances. Just a few months ago you helped form a superhero team and saved New York City from a hostile alien invasion of Earth. I'm sure the public has thousands of questions they want to be answered, but I think the biggest and most important one is who exactly are the Avengers?"

"Well, we're exactly who we say we are," Tony said. "Earth's mightiest heroes, ready to step up and protect it from any threat."

"Any threat," Everhart questioned. "So, that doesn't just mean a hostile invasion of Earth by extraterrestrials?"

"No," Tony said. "If anyone threatens this planet and/or the lives of the people on it, we will defend them."

_And if necessary, avenge them._ Tony stopped himself from adding that. He didn't need to open that dark can of worms. Not now. Everhart tilted her head slightly.

"And what would you consider a threat, Mr. Stark?" It didn't surprise Tony how quickly she had gone off-script, but the question was relevant to the topic at hand, so he figured he could let it slide.

"Exactly what I just said," he responded. "Any person or group of individuals – from this planet or any other – that pose a substantial and credible risk to the lives and safety of the people of this planet." Everhart looked a bit sour for a split-second – upset that she wasn't going to get anything stronger than that from him – but quickly slipped back on her media-ready mask.

"Now, the Avengers," she said. "Can you tell us a bit about how they came to be?"

"We were brought together by S.H.I.E.L.D. to apprehend Loki." That was the most clandestine answer he could give. S.H.I.E.L.D. had made it clear months ago that they didn't want word of the Tesseract getting out, even if the mystical artifact was realms away by this point, because the spy agency didn't want any eyes on them. So, they were all forced to give out a very watered-down version of events. However, this isn't what the press thirsted for. They wanted details; as many as they could get.

"So, S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about Loki before the attacks even happened?"

"I can't comment on that," because he knew S.H.I.E.L.D. would want that kept quiet, too. Everhart didn't seem deterred, though.

"Did they know before his rather alarming appearance in Stuttgart?" Again, Tony replied that he couldn't comment. Freeman cut in then.

"Ma'am," he said. "We've been asked by S.H.I.E.L.D. not to comment as for as their exact role and extent of involvement in the incident. So, again, can you stop with those questions? That would be great." Everhart frowned for a moment and Tony couldn't help but feel a little smug. Clearly, it wasn't the first time she had pressed the issue. Quickly, she seemed to accept this and moved on.

"So," she said. "We know that all of the Avengers seemingly work well together. Did you all know each other or get a chance to work together before the incident?"

"No," Tony said. "Apart from Cap and Romanoff, I had never met any of them before. I don't think many of them knew each other beforehand, either."

"You've met Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff before?" Tony answered in the affirmative. "That's interesting. Can you talk a bit about how that came to be?"

"I don't think I can," he answered. "That's more secret S.H.I.E.L.D. stuff. I probably can't comment on that." Everhart looked annoyed.

"But you hadn't met the rest of them before or even worked with them," Tony answered in the affirmative again. "That's surprising given that all of you worked as such a well-oiled machine when it came down to it."

"You could say that," Tony said. "We had our bumps along the way, but we came together in the end."

"Bumps?" Everhart asked. "What kind of bumps?"

"No comment." Everhart's face soured again. Too bad.

"Are there any outstanding tensions between you and the other Avengers?"

"No," Tony said. "Nothing that would compromise our ability to work together as a team."

"So, your relationship with the other Avengers is good?" That caused Tony to halt a little bit.

"I'd say that I have a good enough relationship with each of them." He paused for a moment. "Well, Thor's been in Asgard since the incident, so none of us really got the chance to know him too much, but the others, I'd say we're on pretty solid ground."

"Can you describe what your relationship is like with each of them individually?"

"Sure," Tony said. "Well, Dr. Banner and I get along pretty well. We've been collaborating on a few projects in the past few months. He's also working in SI's Radiation research division and it's a privilege to have his insight."

"What about the others?"

"Barton and Romanoff seem okay enough," he remarked, though he couldn't keep his mind from adding _when they're not scaring several years off my life_. "They've been away, doing something for S.H.I.E.L.D. as far as I know, but they're going to be back with the Avengers for the foreseeable future and I look forward to working with them further."

"Speaking of Agents Barton and Romanoff, what do you know of their relationship with each other?" Tony frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "What?"

"Well, there's been a lot of speculation about the nature of their relationship," Everhart explained. "Is there any insight you can give us."

"No," Tony said. "That's their business. I don't need to comment on that."

"So, they are in a relationship?"

"I don't know," Tony asserted. "I can't say, and I can't comment."

"Excuse me," Freeman spoke up once again. "Can we keep the conversation focused on Mr. Stark?" Everhart sighed.

"Very well," she said. "Let's move on to the last Avenger; Captain Steve Rogers. You met him before the Battle of New York, correct?"

"Yes," Tony confirmed.

"What was that like, meeting him for the first time?" For the first time since the interview started, Tony felt positive emotions wash over him. Thinking about the first time he saw Steve always made him feel happy (especially when you consider the first thought he had about the guy was _nice abs._) However, he had to tone down his reaction for the cameras. He's got to keep the boyfriend in the closet, after all.

"Meeting him was mind-boggling," Tony said. "I mean, I couldn't imagine someone coming back from the dead as he did, especially after being missing for so long. I heard stories about him when I was a kid. It was just too surreal."

"That's right," Everhart said. "He and your father were friends." Tony could feel his whole body tensing up.

"Yes," was his only reply.

"So did that sort of set expectations high?"

"I'm sorry?"

"For either of you," Everhart clarified. "Let me make it more specific, what were you expecting when you first met him?"

_For him to instantly hate me like Howard always said he would._

"What does anyone expect in a situation like that?" Tony said. "That's beyond what's normal."

"That's true," Everhart said. "But you have to have had a certain image of him before you met, right?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "But I don't think it was any different from anyone else's image of him; the war hero, the good old-fashioned, all-American boy…"

"What about Captain Rogers?" Everhart asked. "Did he have any expectations of you?"

"How could he?" Tony asked. "He didn't know who I was before we met."

"Yes," Everhart said. "But once he heard the name 'Tony Stark' he had to have made the connection to your father, right? Do you think there was an expectation there for you to be like him; a legacy to live up to?"

"Probably…" was the best Tony could come up with. Honestly, although Steve had known his father in his younger, better years, he hoped he saw nothing of his father in him at all, period. When Tony knew him, he was a bitter drunk, too wrapped up in his own research to give a damn about his own wife and son, and on the rare occasion he could, it usually wasn't for good reasons. If Tony could help it, he would never become anything like Howard. He'd stamp out any sign or inkling that he was turning into Howard, ASAP.

Of course, Tony couldn't say this to the cameras. Howard Stark had worked meticulously throughout his life to keep that side of himself hidden from public view. After his death, Tony found it best to keep maintaining this image. After all, opening about his daddy issues would just bring more unnecessary drama into his life and make him out to be weak. He wasn't weak. Stark men are made of iron. So, he could suck it up and answer a few more interview questions, even if they were dangerously prying.

"I mean, sure," Tony said. "There had to be some level of expectation there, but I don't think it truly influenced our opinions of each other. We're on the same team, we work together, and we get along really well."

_A lot better than you'd probably guess._

Everhart's eyes narrowed, her brow tightened, and her jaw clenched. Tony had a feeling that he was poking a sleeping bear by not giving her what she wanted. Again, that was too bad. If she wanted a gossipy, "he tells all" interview, she was barking up the wrong tree and should have stuck with _Vanity Fair_.

"Alright," Everhart said. "So, you and the other Avengers get along well?"

"That's correct." Tony felt like they just reiterated that point for the fiftieth time.

"And we saw you all in action during the Battle of New York," Everhart said. "Speaking of which, what was it like being in the heat of all of that; the fighting and whatnot?"

"Beg pardon?" Tony asked.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Freeman said. "I just got done saying a few minutes ago that we can't comment too much on what happened."

"I don't need exact details," Everhart said. "Just give me a general idea of what was going through your mind when everything happened." Tony looked down and took a deep breath, grounding himself. When he looked back up, he forced the words out of his mouth.

"'We're either going to stop this or we'll die trying,'" Tony said. "That's what was going through my head for the most part and at certain points where it looked like the later was what was going to happen."

"Like when you took ahold of that nuclear missile and carried it through the portal?" Tony felt all the air leave the room. "Now, Mr. Stark, I think the entire **world** wants to know, what was it like choosing to sacrifice yourself like that and what did you experience at that moment?"

"What are we doing?" Tony's eyes narrowed and his posture became tense. He gripped the armrests of the chair for dear life. Lara made eye contact with him and within an instant, she was hurriedly whispering something into Freeman's ear. Everhart, meanwhile, played dumb.

"We're talking," she tried to laugh off. "Doing an interview?"

"You haven't been sticking to the script," Tony pointed out.

"I'm a reporter, Mr. Stark," she said. "It's my job to find out what the public wants to know."

"Right," Tony said, not believing a single word of it.

"And to do that, you can't always stick to the script," she concluded.

"You were clearly prying for information, though." Everhart shook her head.

"No, no," she said. "I'm just asking questions."

"Really," Tony said. "Are you sure?"

"I…" Everhart was swiftly cut off by Freeman.

"That will be all for now, Miss Everhart." Tony looked over at Lara.

"We're done here?"

"We're done," she confirmed. Tony stood up and started to take off his microphone. Everhart, meanwhile, turned back to look at Freeman and Lara.

"Wait, I get fifteen minutes guaranteed," she said. "That was the deal."

"Well, you shouldn't have pushed your luck." If looks could kill, both Lara and Everhart would have dropped dead from each other's glares. Tony finished unhooking his microphone and handed it back to the producer. He was about to walk out, but Everhart spoke up, causing Tony to freeze in front of the door.

"No, wait," Everhart said. "Please, don't go."

"Nah," Tony said. "It's just getting a little too Diane Sawyer-y and you're kind of a schmuck." Tony felt a little bit of joy at Everhart's affronted look before he walked out the door.

* * *

Tony didn't realize he had no idea where he was supposed to go until he was halfway down the hall. He assumed everyone was waiting in the lobby, so he figured he should head towards there. However, he couldn't quite remember which way led back to the lobby (probably because he was paying more attention to Steve's butt on the way in,) so he got a bit turned around. Once it became clear he had no idea where he was, he decided to stick to the adage of "if you're lost, stay put." He found a spot on the floor and waited for Lara and/or Freeman to come across him.

Seeing as he was alone and was just put through the emotional wringer, Tony figured now was as good a time as any to have a drink. He pulled the flask out of his jacket pocket, undid the top, and took a sip. He was careful not to drink too much, though. One, because he didn't want it to be noticed that he had been drinking. Two, because he wanted to make sure he had enough for later. So, even though he wanted to down the entire flask in one go, Tony restrained himself.

Putting the cap back on the flask, Tony had just barely slipped it back into his pocket when he saw Lara almost walk past the hallway, he was waiting in. She caught sight of him at the last second and stopped, throwing her hands in the air.

"What the hell?" Tony started to stand up.

"I got turned around," he admitted.

"Hell yeah, you did," she said. "The lobby's that way." She pointed back the way she came. "Didn't you hear Freeman when he told you to stop?"

"Everhart didn't," Tony pointed out.

"Everhart's a word I can't use in a professional setting," Lara countered.

"Let me guess, it starts with a 'b.'"

"A 'c.'"

"Ouch," Tony hissed. "On the record, I don't approve."

"Off the record?"

"I totally agree."

"Noted," Lara said. "But seriously, don't storm off like that. We're on a tight schedule you know."

"I know, I know," Tony said. "I don't need to be reminded for the billionth time today."

"Too bad," Lara said. "Here's me reminding you again. We're on a tight schedule. Get your ass in gear."

"Alright! I'm coming, I'm coming!" Tony started walking in the direction Lara had just come from. As he passed by her, Lara frowned for a second before inhaling deeply. Tony turned back to look at her. "What's wrong now?"

"Nothing," she assured. "Just smelled something weird."

"Weird?"

"Like crippling depression and bad decisions." She shrugged. "Eh, can't smell it now." She then started to walk down the hall again. Tony made sure to keep a couple of paces behind her.

* * *

**Thank you to mammal for leaving kudos on AO3! It really means a lot! :)**

**Something I forgot to put in that disclaimer in the beginning, but a section of this chapter is based on Robert Downey Jr.'s own words to a reporter who was pushing him too much in an interview, even quoting him directly at points. So yeah, credit to RDJ for that. Also, the next chapter is going to feature some of Scarlett Johansson's own words to a guy who was being sexist (and kind of a creep) towards her in an interview, so if I don't remember, credit to her, too!**

**Anyways, review if you enjoyed! I'm going to figure out how I'm going to get by without Tumblr for the next week or so.**

**Remember kids, if you don't want to say something to someone, just walk away.**

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**Originally uploaded to FFN on 7/2/19.**


	6. Ask Me Anything

**We're now officially halfway through the year! That means we're only six months away from the blood bath that 2020 is sure to be! Crap...**

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**Sunday January 22nd, 2012**

The next two interviews went much better to say the least. The one after Everhart was a CNN round table discussion with the entire team, and a Time Magazine interview where they were split into groups. Tony, Steve, and Bruce in the first group, Barton and Romanoff in the second. While Time was a respectable publication, Tony couldn't help but wonder if they had split them up that way on purpose. They did have the grace not to outright ask if Barton and Romanoff were dating, which is more than he could say about most of the media outlets they interacted with throughout the day.

After those two interviews, they had a few more individual ones before they made it to the main event of the day: the live Q&A session. They had rented out the theater at Georgetown University and tickets had sold out faster than you could say "Ticket Master." Everyone and their mother wanted a chance to question the Avengers, for both good and bad reasons. The bad reasons were what they were stressing about most now.

Again, Freeman was making it clear that none of the scenarios they were discussing were likely to happen, but Lara seemed a little jumpy. Apparently, Tony wasn't the only one Everhart gave the third degree to. Apparently, she went hard on Bruce, Barton, and Romanoff too. Steve was the only one who got the easy treatment, but that was probably only because Everhart doubted, she could get anything controversial out of Captain America. Oh, if only she knew.

That was all in the past now, though. They had to focus on the present, which was the Q&A session. Although, yes, it was open to the public, every single person had been vetted by SI's PR Department, S.H.I.E.L.D. and a few other agencies. After all, there were quite a few weirdos out there and even more people with just plain bad intentions. It was much better to be safe than sorry.

After going over the rules one last time, Freeman and Lara left to take their places in the crowd. They would be sitting in the fifth row to the left of the left aisle; easy to spot if one of them became nervous. Despite the hell that he had already been through, doubted that he would need it but had to admit that it was just a little comforting to know that someone familiar was there. He could imagine it would be a lot more so for the others.

As they stood backstage, waiting for the presenter to come out and give them their cue to enter, Tony couldn't help but brush the back of his hand against Steve's. He hated this; not being able to touch or kiss his boyfriend even though that he desperately needed the comfort. He could still do little things like that, though, and he felt the tiniest bit reassured when Steve brushed his hand back. That would have to suffice for now.

Before too long, they heard the microphone system click on and the crowd politely clap as the presenter came on the stage. The guy introduced himself as Joe Schmoe or something else unimportant and gave a whole spiel introducing them as "the heroes they've all been waiting for" or another equally cheesy line like that. Tony didn't care. He just wanted to get this over with so he could down the rest of his mimosa, but still, eventually the cue came and the five of them walked out on stage.

The round of applause that followed was surprising. Before Tony could see how many people could be in the theater, he would have sworn it was close to a thousand. The theater only seated two-hundred fifty people, give or take. Given the prying and semi-accusatory questions he'd been facing throughout the day, this warm welcome felt nice, reassuring a bit. So, reassuring, in fact, that he almost didn't notice that Joe the presenter was going up to each of them and shaking their hands. It wasn't until the guy had gone up to Steve that he took notice and pulled himself out of his trance. After the guy shook his hand, Tony found himself looking over at Steve and smiling for just the briefest of moments. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that he got a smile back.

After Joe got to the end of the line and shook hands with Bruce, they all sat down on a long couch that had been placed on the stage, along with a small lounge chair that was set up for the presenter. The man smiled and turned to look at the crowd.

"Alright," he said. "Now I know you all have questions you want to be answered, and we'll get to that in a minute. If everyone who wants to ask something could please calmly form a line behind the microphone located in each aisle at this time that would be great. Just please, listen to each staff member standing by and follow their instructions carefully."

Already, a few dozen people got up and started forming two neat, single-file lines. Tony could see the staff members – wearing the university's colors of blue and gray – carefully explaining how the microphones worked to the people at the front of the line and going over the rules for asking questions. Joe, meanwhile, turned back to them.

"Now, while we wait for everyone to be ready, why don't we go ahead down the line here and have you all introduced yourselves? Like in elementary school, just give your real name, your codename, and just a random detail about yourself." Everyone seemed to agree with that. "Why don't we start with you, Mr. Barton?"

"Alright." Clint's eyes looked out and carefully scanned the crowd as if searching for some sort of threat. He must have been reassured that there was none because after that silent moment he went ahead and did as he was told. "My name is Clint Barton. You all probably know me better as Hawkeye, and a random fact about myself… My favorite movie is _Blade Runner_?" He shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't expecting to be put on the spot like that." The crowd gave a little laugh at that, and then it was on to Natasha.

"My name is Natasha Romanoff," she said with an easy, crowd-pleasing smile. "I'm also known as the Black Widow, and detail about myself would be my favorite kind of sandwich is peanut butter. No Fluff, no jelly, just straight peanut butter on bread." The crowd gave another little chuckle, then it was Steve's turn.

"My name is Steve Rogers. You know me better as Captain America." The crowd started cheering and clapping. Tony noticed that Steve's cheeks turned a little pink and the corners of his lips rose up. "A detail about myself… I really like Earl Grey tea." Much like Clint, he shrugged as if he wasn't sure what else to say. The crowd made another noise of amusement before all eyes were on Tony.

"You all know who I am, obviously," he said eliciting another laugh from the crowd. "And I'm already certain that ninety percent of you know more about me than I know about myself, so you can take that as your random fact." The crowd cheered, laughed, and clapped. Once again, they reached the end of the line.

"Hello," Bruce said. "My name is Dr. Bruce Banner. I'm also the Hulk." He said that last part warily as if worried about the crowd's reaction. Luckily, this crowd had left the pitchforks and torches at home. After all, it would be hard to clap with those things occupying your hands. Bruce's eyebrows raised in surprise at the generally positive reaction and shyly he raised his hand and gave a little wave to the crowd. "Um, a fact about myself…" Bruce's eyes scanned the crowd. Tony noticed that they fell on the fifth row, left-hand side. "One time in college I handed in a term paper that was written backward and in Latin, and still somehow managed to get an 'A' on it." The crowd – and the one person Bruce was looking at in particular – cracked up at that. It only got worse when Bruce added: "it gets more puzzling when you realize that this was before the internet and the professor in question didn't understand Latin." Once the laughter died down, Joe the presenter spoke up again.

"Well, it's nice to meet you all and wonderful to have you here," he said. "I think the lines are ready to go, so let's get down to business. We'll start with this young woman on the left and keep it going, left, right, left, right. Got it?" The crowd agreed and Joe gestured to the woman in question. "Go ahead, just say your name, who your question is for, and ask it." The girl nodded before nervously stepping forward to the microphone and asking her question. Tony didn't know who it was directed at, but it wasn't him, so he allowed himself the moment to tune out.

It ended up being more than a moment because at first none of the questions were directed at him. He was pretty sure Romanoff, Steve, and Bruce got the first few questions, but he lost track after that. It wasn't until he heard someone say that they had a question for all of them that he perked up and started paying attention. Standing at the microphone, he saw a little girl – probably no more than eight or nine years old – wearing a silver helmet and carrying a toy version of an awfully familiar hammer. Her question was simple, consisting of only two words.

"Where's Thor?" Some in the crowd giggled at the child's bluntness. Tony, however, noticed that Steve sat up a little straighter and scooched forward onto the edge of his seat to answer the question.

"Thor's back in his home realm of Asgard," he explained. "We don't have any way to contact him, otherwise we would have asked him to be here with us today."

"Do you know when he's coming back?" she asked, hopefully.

"Unfortunately, no, sorry." The girl looked saddened by that response. Just as she was about to walk away from the microphone, Barton – surprisingly – spoke up.

"I'm sorry," he said. "What's your name? I didn't catch it before."

"Sara," the girl answered.

"Sara," Barton said. "That's a pretty name." The girl's cheeks turned a little pink.

"Thank you."

"Why are you looking so sad there Sara?" he asked. "Did you have something you wanted to ask Thor?"

"I made this bracelet for him at school," she explained, holding up a small, pale blue box that presumably held the bracelet inside. "My daddy got special tickets just so I could come here and give it to him." The crowd gave out a wave of "awws." Clint got up from his seat and approached the edge of the stage.

"Why don't you come on up here and give it to us?" he said. "We'll make sure he gets it the next time we see him."

The girl looked to the man behind her – quite obviously her father – who gave her a reassuring nod. She then rushed forward, eagerly holding out the box as she made it to the stage. Barton took it graciously and exchanged a few words with him after a few moments, he looked back up at the crowd.

"She said it was okay for me to show it to you," he said before opening the box and extracting a bracelet made of red, white, and black twine with silver beads adorning it. The bracelet looked to be big enough to fit around two adult-sized wrists. Obviously, the girl wanted to be sure that it would fit him. While the crowd "oohed" and "awed" over the bracelet, Barton stuck his hand in the box and began feeling around, probably checking to make sure there were no concealed listening devices. Once he was certain there was nothing off about the package and the crowd had finished pretending to be impressed by the child's work, Barton put the bracelet back in the box, said a few more words to the girl, and then sent her back to her father. Barton then returned to his own seat and sat down, resting the box on top of his lap.

The entire time he was watching the scene, Tony could feel a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Although kids weren't his thing, he had to admit it was kind of heartwarming to watch that interaction. What really killed him though was the dad. He couldn't believe that someone would take their kid to bring a gift to their favorite superhero – especially with the prices they were charging for admission (all the profits of which were going to benefit the New York Battle Relief Fund.) That… Wow, that hit his feelings hard.

Little did he know; his feelings were in for another whammy. At the other microphone, the next person to step up was a dark-skinned woman in her early-to-mid-twenties. Her hair was done in dreadlocks and she was wearing all white. She cleared her throat before speaking up.

"Hi," she said. "My name is Regina and my question is for Tony Stark."

"Finally," he snarked, making the crowd laugh. "I feel like I've been waiting all day. Come on, ask away."

"Why did you stop it?" Things were silent for a moment as Tony waited for her to add to her inquiry. She didn't say anything else, so Tony took the initiative for himself.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Can you clarify what you're talking about?"

"The invasion," she said. "Why did you stop it?" Glancing over at the employee standing next to the woman, Tony could see that they clearly weren't expecting her to ask that and were in about as much shock as the rest of the room. He looked towards Freeman and Lara. Lara was staring at the questioner with narrowed eyes while Freeman mouthed to him "don't answer." However, Tony felt compelled to at least say something, especially with all the awkward tension filling the room.

"What?" he said. "You mean other than the obvious?"

"It was our destined day of reckoning," the girl said in the same eerily calm manner as she did when she asked the question. "Why did you put a stop to it? Why couldn't you allow humanity to enter its new era?" At that point, the university employee seemed to find their jaw somewhere on the floor and reattach it before grabbing the woman by the arm and escorting her out of the theater. The entire time she was being escorted out, the woman screamed that the staff was "racially profiling her," and calling them "racist, fascist pigs!" She only seemed to stop when the auditorium doors shut behind her.

_Well, that was a lovely display to put on for the kids!_ Tony felt a chill go over him. That wasn't the worst question he'd ever been asked by far, but it was still beyond bizarre and creepy as hell. He glanced over at Steve for a second to see that the other man was looking at him with a slightly concerned expression. Tony gave him a little nod to show him that he was fine before sending his eyes back into the crowd to find Lara again. She looked both concerned and angry. Tony carefully gave her a brief thumbs up to let her know he was okay, but from her expression, he could tell that she either didn't believe him or was too angry to care. After a few seconds, he decided that it was probably a mixture of both.

From there, things went… Not terribly wrong, but also not great either. They got asked things that were rather easy to answer and weren't overwhelmingly harmful or personal. Just mundane stuff like "what do you do to train," "what kind of special abilities do you have," "how did you become a superhero," etc. However, interspersed with those questions were some rather disturbing ones, usually asked by people in all-white clothing who would be promptly led out of the auditorium, screaming vile and slightly political insults at them. (The political aspect didn't surprise Tony at all, though. After all, they were in D.C.) The one outlier in the group of people who got escorted out was a man named Ethan who appeared to be in his mid-to-late forties and wore a leather jacket that looked like it had seen better days. His question was for Romanoff.

"I just wanted to ask…" he started to say. "I was… I was just wondering… Do you wear underwear underneath your uniform…?" Romanoff's face fell almost as soon as he said the word "underwear."

"You know," she said in a none-too-pleased tone. "You're the fifth person to ask me that today."

"Well, no…" The guy said. "It's just… It's such a tight outfit…" Romanoff didn't let him finish whatever he was saying.

"What is going on? What…?" A semi-look of disbelief crossed her face as she turned to look at Barton. "Since when did people start asking each other in interviews about their underwear?" Barton laughed, but it was clear that it was more out of discomfort than anything else. Romanoff turned to look back at the guy who had asked the question. "You know what, I'll leave it up to your imagination, okay? Whatever you feel like I should be wearing or not wearing under that outfit." Quite a few people gave her a round of applause for that answer while the man in question was led out of the auditorium by university staff. That was nothing compared to what Tony had felt like had been the biggest whammy of them all, though.

At some point, the staff had noticed a pattern in the way the more obtrusive askers were dressed and began to question anyone in line for the microphone wearing all-white clothing. Quite a few were found to be suspicious and extracted from the line before they could ask their question. That didn't stop them from causing a ruckus as they were being led out, though. However, there were still a few who seemed to be dressed normally – wearing a few different colors and not just all white – that came up and asked a few bizarre questions, most of which revolving around the Battle of New York and why they put a stop to it. They declined to answer every time they managed to slip through, though. After all, what else did they expect them to say? Lives were at stake, of course, they were going to put a stop to it. Hopefully, all the normal people in the room realized that.

A woman by the name of Treasa stepped up to the microphone. She was wearing blue jeans and white polo with a black hoodie over it, so it wasn't obvious that she was associated with the group asking all the strange questions. Her question was for Steve.

"Do you believe in God?" she asked.

"Yes," Steve said instantly. "Why do you ask that?"

"If you believe in God why do you tamper with his work?" she asked. "Why did you stop the fated end of days? Why did you purposefully tamper with the gifts he gave you? Why couldn't you make do with what you already had?"

"Uh," Steve said. Tony could easily detect the slight nervous edge in his voice. "What is your point? What do any of those things have to do with each other?" Treasa scoffed

"Of course, you wouldn't understand, you overgrown lab-rat." Steve's hand locked around Tony's wrist tightly before he even had the chance to think about walking off-stage and getting up in that woman's face. Tony didn't try to resist at all, knowing that his unarmored-self stood no chance against Steve's superhuman strength. He settled for giving the woman the most vicious glare he could as she was led away like all the others.

Shortly after that, the event ended. There were no more disruptions and no more bizarre questions. Everyone else just had normal, respectful questions for all of them and they were able to end it without any walk-outs. Once they said all their goodbyes and thanks, the five of them walked off the stage, only stopping to allow crew members to remove their microphones. Tony was impatient and ripped the thing off halfway through the removal process. He needed to get some air and a drink.

"I get it now," Lara said as she raked her fingers through her hair. "I finally get it! I finally understand why so many celebrities have drug problems! It's the damn interviews! They're freaking murder!"

"I didn't think it was that bad," Bruce said, carefully trying to reassure her.

"No," she said. "All of this was a damn nightmare, and we have to do it all over again tomorrow! It's pure madness! This is why everyone in Hollywood is on drugs. Eminem, Slash, Drew Berrymore, Amanda Bynes…"

"Calm down," Freeman said. "We all did great today. Sure we had a few bumps…" Tony scoffed at that and for the first time in the past two days, Freeman looked something other than calmly optimistic. "…But it's nothing to upset ourselves about. Tomorrow will be better."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Barton remarked.

"Nicole Ritchie, Robin Williams, Stephen King…"

"Besides, you're not out of the woods yet," Freeman reminded them. "You still have the fundraising gala benefiting the New York Battle Relief Fund." It seemed like everyone in the car wanted to groan at the thought, but were too polite to do so, so they just let a tense silence fill the air. Well, almost silence.

"Stevie Nicks, Jimi Hendrix, Truman Capote…"

"There's no way we can get out of this, Stark?" Natasha asked.

"Well, unless the driver of our limousine decides to take a sharp right off of a freeway overpass, I don't see that happening." Tony made sure he said that extra loud so that way their driver could hear him through the privacy shade. Apparently, the driver didn't have the same death wish they had. Tony felt a warm hand slide into his own.

"You alright?" He asked.

"Fine," Tony said.

"You sure?" Steve asked. "You disappeared for a moment there and ever since you got back you've been in this mood."

"I'm fine," Tony assured. "Just don't like people talking to you that way."

"I don't either," Steve said. "Believe me, but you don't need to get this upset over it. I'm fine." Tony could feel Steve's thumb brush over the back of his hand in what was meant to be a reassuring gesture. It didn't reassure him, and neither did the beer he bought off that kid hanging out on the park bench in front of the auditorium. He was sure his parents were proud.

"Pamela Anderson, Charlie Sheen, Robert Downey Jr…"

"Alright, can we stop naming names?" Tony snapped. "It's kind of annoying."

"No, this is making me feel better," Lara said, though she quickly started muttering them under her breath. Tony took a deep breath to compose himself and felt a hand gently tangle itself in his hair.

"Tony…" He turned to look at his boyfriend directly in the eye.

"I'm fine, Steve," he assured. "I promise you." Steve nodded in acceptance.

"Okay," he said. "I believe you." Tony nodded and directed his gaze down to his feet.

_You shouldn't, though._

* * *

**Thank you to mfaerie32 for the reviews and The Other Jet Engine for the favorites and follows! You guys rock!**

**I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! This definitely was a little brutal on everyone, Tony especially. Things aren't looking good for him now, are they?**

**Oh, and if anyone gets the reference with the little girl named Sarah who loves Thor, you're awesome and it's clear that we have the same love of 1980s comedies. In case I forget to mention it (because it's several fics away and I have a very short-term memory) after my _Thor: The Dark World_ re-write and Thor meets back up with the Avengers, he actually wears the bracelet that little girl made him! Feel free to "aww" at the idea of that!**

**Remember kids, if you wouldn't say it to a random stranger you just approached on the street, don't say it to a celebrity.**

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**Originally uploaded to FFN on 7/3/19.**


	7. A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

**Happy 101st birthday to Captain Steven Grant Rogers and Happy Fourth of July to all my fellow Americans!**

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**Sunday, January 22nd, 2012**

Parties used to be Tony's thing. He could walk into a room full of people and schmooze with the best of them; kiss ass, take names and then leave with a beautiful girl or two on his arm. After he came back from Afghanistan, partying kind of lost some of the appeal it once had. Maybe it was because he felt more of a sense of responsibility now that he was Iron Man. Maybe it was because that out-of-control birthday party he had knocked some sense into him. Maybe it was because he was just getting old. Tony wasn't sure which, but he was dreading to go to this gala. Call it out of character if you want, but he just didn't want to do it, plain and simple.

He got the idea that the others didn't want to do it either. He didn't blame them. It had been a long day and they all had been through the wringer in one way or another. However, there was no way to justifiably get out of it. Not only would it be good for the Avengers' press for them to be seen attending a gala benefitting relief for a disaster some saw them responsible for, but a lot of politicians would be there. It was D.C. after all, and it was always good to get on Congress' good side. (Not that Tony would know as he's never been on Congress' good side, but he could imagine it had its benefits.) Pepper would not be happy if they skipped out on this. The only thing he could think of to get out of it without anyone getting upset would be to unplug a few wires in the Arc Reactor and give himself a heart attack, but he didn't really feel like an ambulance ride and a CAT-scan, so he just had to suck it up and go to the gala. They'd have booze there, anyways. So, it wasn't like the party was going to be totally miserable. At least, that was one of the bright sides he was going to cling to.

The other one? He got to see Steve dressed up in a suit. Now that was a sight to see. He kept it simple; black tie, black suit, white dress shirt, but even so Tony was having a hard time trying to resist how unbelievably attractive he was. If Tony could have his way, he'd throw Steve down on the table and start screwing his brains out right then and there. Unfortunately, there were such things as public decency laws, and he was pretty sure Romanoff would castrate him if he tried to do that while they were eating. So, he'd have to stick with taking long sips of his wine and replaying his fantasies in his head. It was truly a pity.

They had been at the party for a little over an hour at that point. They had walked around, schmoozing and mingling as they were supposed to and eventually, they all had decided to take a break to sit down and enjoy some of the appetizers the servers were handing out. Tony couldn't remember what it was they were serving since he ate his already, but the others seemed to be enjoying whatever it was. So, he just shrugged and started to pick up his glass again.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain on his left bicep. He turned to find Lara pinching his arm. Frowning, he shook her off.

"What the hell?"

"I thought you weren't going to drink." Tony sighed.

"It's just one glass," he pointed out.

"Two," Lara corrected. "I know that's your second glass."

"One and a half," Tony amended. "And we're almost through the day so it's not like it matters."

"Except it does." Tony pretended not to hear that half-muttered comment. Instead, he took a sip off his glass and stole another sidelong glance at Steve. This time when he looked at Steve, however, he saw Steve looking at him rather concerned.

_Crap._

"What?" For some reason, Tony felt like that came off a little harsher than he meant it to.

"Nothing," Steve said. "Just wondering if you're okay."

"I'm fine," Tony assured, looking away. "Don't worry about me."

"Alright." For a second, Tony hoped that Steve would reach out to comfort him in some way, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Tony sighed. As much as he wished that he had been able to come out on his own, Tony had to admit that being in the closet absolutely sucked.

"Alright," Barton said. "Now that we're away from the PR guru…" He gestured over to the table several feet away from where Freeman was sitting. "…Can I just hear honestly whether the media was going after us?"

"Oh, God yes."

"Absolutely."

Tony and Lara responded at the same time. A look of relief came over Barton's face.

"So, I'm not going crazy?"

"Oh, no," Tony said. "You probably are. I mean, no one can walk away from the press unscathed."

"So, they were specifically targeting us?" Lara nodded in response to Bruce's question. "Then why were you telling us not to be concerned before?"

"As we said before, we didn't want you guys to be uptight and defensive," she explained. "Besides, we didn't think they'd go after you guys as hard as they did. Tony? Yes. The rest of you? No."

"Isn't that a little much to assume?" Romanoff asked.

"Yes, it was," Lara said. "Which is why it makes an ass out of you and me. I have that saying right, right?"

"For the most part," Bruce confirmed.

"Good," Lara said. "Although what surprised me most was that they barely went after Steve." Tony shrugged.

"He's America's golden boy," he said. "What did you expect?"

"They were going after the rest of you," Lara pointed out. "Other than that, one messed up question at the Q&A, they went pretty soft on him. I figured if they were going to go after you guys, it'd be all or nothing."

"Did you not just hear my last point?"

"Counterpoint," Lara said. "The innocent ones tend to have the most skeletons in their closets. No offense, Steve."

"It's not like I can argue with it," Steve shrugged.

"What I want to know is what was the deal with that Q&A session?" Tony asked. "Because that wasn't the media, that was the public."

"Yeah," Barton agreed. "That was freaky."

"I was sitting in the aisle seat right next to the microphone," Lara explained. "I almost caught an elbow to the eye as they were escorting one of them out."

"Did the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents monitoring the event say anything to you guys about it?" Steve asked Romanoff.

"No," she said. "They were still looking into it when we left. They're probably not going to know more until they get them back to the Triskelion."

"The most they could tell us was that they were probably with the same group," Barton shrugged.

"Any ideas on who they might be?" Tony asked.

"Nothing official," Barton remarked. "But I'm pretty sure I heard one of them mention…"

"Excuse me." Everyone looked up as Freeman approached the table, a tall Latino man following him. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I just wanted to introduce you to someone." He gestured to the man standing next to him. "Everyone, this is Congressman Eduardo Salinas." He then gestured to the table. "Congressman, these are the Avengers." He pointed around the table. "That's Dr. Banner, Agents Romanoff and Barton, Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark, and Stark's assistant, Miss Conroy."

Salinas then went around the table giving everyone handshakes and each time stating how wonderful it was to meet them. None of them could say the reverse was true. The man continued to gush, though.

"Again, I have to say it's an honor to meet all of you," he said. "I'm sure many of my constituents would not be alive today if it wasn't for your efforts."

"You represent New York?" Steve asked.

"New Jersey," Salinas said. "The Tenth Congressional District; Newark/Jersey City area. A lot of people commute."

"Ah," Steve said.

"Well, it's nice to hear someone appreciates our efforts."

"**Ehehehe**…" Lara glared sharply at Tony as she let out the fake laugh. "What he means to say is we've had a rough day with the press."

"Oh, I understand completely," Salinas said. "The media can be a merciless menace."

"But one we must all deal with, right Tony?" When he didn't immediately respond, Lara pressed her foot down on his, **hard**. He shot an annoyed glance at her before reluctantly agreeing.

"Well, I just wanted to introduce myself," Salinas said. "I don't want to take up much of your time. Besides, I'm certain we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other in the coming months, especially when you join the cause." Immediately, Romanoff frowned, and her eyes narrowed.

"The cause?" Salinas unwaveringly smiled.

"Oh, I'm sure Duane here will tell you all about it soon enough," he said. "He's one of our best." Freeman honestly laughed at that.

"I don't know about that," he said. "But seriously, we do good work and we'd love to have you hear us out sometime. Certainly, under less formal circumstances." Everyone could feel the bite directed at Salinas that went along with those last few words. Salinas shifted slightly uncomfortably on his feet.

"Of course." He nodded, but his tone didn't sound agreeing. "Well, I'll leave you in peace, then. Enjoy the rest of your night gentlemen, ladies." Salinas then turned and left the table with Freeman following closely behind him. As soon as they were out of his line of sight, Tony pulled his cellphone out of his jacket pocket.

"JARVIS," he said. "Pull up what you can about Congressman Eduardo Salinas."

"Already one step ahead of you, Stark." Romanoff too had pulled out her phone. However, she had started covertly surfing the web under the table as soon as Freeman had introduced Salinas. "Eduardo Salinas, born on April 28th, 1965. He's a Congressman representing New Jersey's Tenth District and the son of Mexican immigrants. He was chairman for Newark's Urban Health Advisory Committee and founded the Essex County Instruction Program for Pre-School Youth in 1994. He was elected to Congress in 2008."

"Jesus, Romanoff," Tony remarked. "Your ability to dig up information on people is uncanny." She shrugged.

"This is just his Wikipedia page."

"So what?" Bruce said. "He just wants us to help out with his charity. That doesn't sound too nefarious."

"Possibly," Romanoff said. "I'm still looking into it. Let's see… Served in the Essex County DA's office… Married with two daughters… Oh, this is interesting."

"What?" Barton leaned over to get a better look at the phone.

"'Salinas has been a follower of the teachings of the Peoples Unity Church of the Supreme Understanding since at least the age of nineteen,'" Romanoff recited. "'He's heavily involved in church activities and appears to be a senior member of the group."

"Wait, Peoples Unity Church…?" Lara questioned. "Tony isn't that the same group that gathers in front of the tower."

"I'm not sure…" Tony had to admit, he didn't pay much attention to those bridge dwellers or why they gathered in front of his tower. He just knew he wanted them gone. The alcohol wasn't doing much to help his recollection, either. That didn't stop him from finishing off his glass, though. "It could be? I don't know. I don't remember."

"Unbelievable," he heard Lara mutter under her breath and sent her a sharp look.

"Hold on a second," Romanoff said. "There's a group that gathers in front of the tower?"

"Yeah," Lara said. "They're harmless for the most part; just extremely annoying."

"Does S.H.I.E.L.D. know about this?"

"Well, I think you just answered your own question there, Romanoff," Tony said. "It's alright though. SI has top-notch security and the NYPD is aware of the situation at this point."

"And the fire department," Lara guiltily added.

"What are they doing?" Barton asked. "Are they protesting or something?"

"No," Lara said. "I see them most mornings when I come into work and it seems like they're mostly just doing church services. They only get upset when security or the police ask them to leave."

"Still," Tony said. "There's a time and a place for everything. My front lobby isn't it."

"Have you guys noticed anything strange with them?" Barton asked, looking between Steve and Bruce.

"No," Bruce said. "But then again, I don't leave the tower much. I just know what I've heard from Tony and Lara."

"Same here," Steve said. "Why? Do you think there's something suspicious there?"

"I can't say for certain," Romanoff said. "I'd need more time and resources than what I can do here and now on my phone." She pressed the lock button and slid her phone back into whatever mysterious place she produced it from. "However, just a cursory search online brought up several red flags. The group is work looking into, even if they mean no harm to us, personally. I'll tell S.H.I.E.L.D. and start doing some research myself soon as we get back." Steve nodded in agreement.

"Sounds like a plan to me," he said.

"What do we do in the meantime?" Bruce asked. Tony shrugged.

"Just ignore them," he said. "Salinas and the Church both. We don't have beef with them and as far as we know, they don't have beef with us. We don't even know what they want in the first place. It could be completely unrelated." Tony brought his glass to his lips again but was met with confusion when he found it to be devoid of any liquid.

_Oh yeah, that's right._ He frowned as he remembered the last of that glass of wine a few minutes ago. Oh, well. All that meant was that it was time to get some more.

"I'm going to get another drink." Tony felt surprised at how off-balance he was as he stood up. Hopefully, the others didn't notice. "Does anyone want anything?"

"Actually, do you mind if I accompany you?" Tony narrowed his eyes at Romanoff.

"Yes," he said. "Why?" Romanoff put on her best innocent act.

"I just want to see what food they have up at the back table," she lied. "It's going to be a bit before the main course is served, right?"

Tony could see what she was doing. He might be inebriated, but he wasn't blind. However, he couldn't feasibly see a way to justifiably deny her request. Frowning, he had no choice but to do exactly what she wanted.

"Alright," he reluctantly agreed. Romanoff stood up from her seat while Tony tried to make his way around the table. He did it, but it was hard. He put all his effort into not stumbling over his own two feet and as a result ended up overcorrecting himself and made things worse. By the time he made it over to Romanoff, she was holding an arm out to him.

"Escort a lady?" It was a clever cover and one Tony would be stupid to refuse. He hooked his arm around hers and together they started making their way towards the back of the room where the bar and refreshments tables were located. Tony tried not to lean on Romanoff too much – still trying desperately to give off the impression that he was fine – but again, his body and his impaired coordination skills didn't seem to want to comply with his desires.

Tony held his breath, waiting for the confrontation. Romanoff was somewhat merciful. She waited until they were out of earshot of their table to say something and kept her voice low when she did to keep strangers from overhearing.

"Alright, what's going on, Stark?" Tony knew playing dumb would do him no good, but he needed extra time to think up possible defenses.

"What do you mean?" Romanoff's expression darkened.

"Don't bullshit me," she said. "You're wasted."

"I'm fine," Tony asserted.

"Don't," Romanoff said. "Don't lie to me. We both know it. You're drunk and based off your demeanor; you've had more than two glasses of wine. What's going on?"

"Okay," Tony said. "I've had more than two glasses of wine. You've got me there, but a guy can't enjoy a few drinks after a hard day?"

"You were drunk yesterday, too," Romanoff pointed out. "I know. I smelled it on you and Steve told me you had a few on the plane." Tony's heart stopped for a moment. It felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over him.

"Is that all he told you?" Romanoff raised an eyebrow.

"Is there more to tell?" Tony remained silent, directing his gaze down to his shoes. Romanoff sighed. "How long as this been going on?"

"Why do you care?" Tony asked.

"We're a team," Romanoff said. "We're supposed to look out for each other."

"So, you're doing this for the team?" Tony questioned.

"I'm doing this for **you**," Romanoff stressed her point hard. "I know two days isn't enough to establish a pattern, but seeing how I've seen you behave while under the influence of alcohol in the past combined with everything I've observed in the past two days, I think I have a right to be concerned."

"'How I've behaved in the past?'" Tony questioned. "Are you talking about my birthday party? Need I remind you that you didn't stop me."

"I was under strict orders to observe only, not interfere." Tony had to laugh at that.

"Alright," he said. "I can't bullshit you, but you can bullshit me all day. Way to be a hypocrite, Romanoff." Romanoff's expression turned furious.

"Stark," she said. "You don't understand the entire circumstances behind that mission."

"Sure, I do," Tony said. "Your buddy Nick like that I told him that I didn't want to join his half-assed version of the Justice League of America and sent you to spy on me. What more is there to understand?"

"A lot," Romanoff tried to interject.

"Besides, you ended up not recommending me anyways," Tony said. "So, it's not like it mattered in the end."

"You're right," Romanoff said. "It didn't because that **wasn't my report**. Regardless of that fact, though, you ended up proving it wrong anyways."

"Sure, it was and sure I did." Tony rolled his eyes. By that point they had made it to the bar and Tony had released his grip on Romanoff's arm. He scrambled over to the counter to regain some sense of balance. Romanoff stepped forward until she was standing toe-to-toe with Tony.

"The report you saw," she said. "Wasn't the one I wrote. I rejected you on the grounds that I didn't think you were mentally healthy enough to handle being on a team like the Avengers. I don't know who changed it or why, but the point is that you might be proving **me** right, now."

"So what?" Tony said. "You want me off the team?"

"No," Romanoff said. "I want you to knock it off with the drinking before it becomes a problem."

"I don't have a problem," Tony said.

"Of course, you don't," Romanoff said. "But if you're drowning your trauma in alcohol, you're obviously not completely fine mentally or otherwise."

"Get out of my sight, Romanoff." He barely noticed the way her face fell.

"Fine," she said. "I know when I'm talking to a wall. Just don't say I didn't warn you." With that, she turned and started heading back towards the table. Tony watched her until he was sure she wasn't coming back. Climbing onto one of the barstools, it didn't take long for the bartender to take notice of him.

"What can I get you?" Tony smirked.

"What's the strongest thing you've got?"

* * *

Tony wasn't sure how much time had passed. He wasn't even sure where he was or who he was talking to. He knew he started at the bar and was probably still at the event venue. Other than that, he was completely clueless.

This was nice. Tony hadn't gotten this drunk it quite a long time and he forgot how good it felt. It was as if all his worries and cares in the world had just melted away. He liked it. He should get this drunk more often.

He hadn't seen any of the others since Romanoff left him. That would be all well and good as he was certain that Romanoff had turned them all against him by this point, but Steve was still with them. He liked Steve. He missed Steve. He wanted to kiss Steve. So, he had no choice but to try and find them. The only problem with that was that he couldn't remember where their table was, and people kept coming up to him to talk. Also, the fact that he kept pouring more alcohol down his throat probably didn't help.

He made his way around the room, meandering a bit as he kept forgetting his goal. He didn't see anyone he recognized and when he stopped to talk to people, he couldn't even remember what he was saying, let alone what the conversation was even about. He was about midway through one of these conversations when he thought he heard someone call his name.

"Tony?" He ignored it. It was probably just his imagination again. He kept all his concentration on trying to look like he was paying attention to what the guy in front of him was saying.

"Tony!" He heard it again. It wasn't his imagination this time, especially considering how annoyed the voice sounded. He decided it would probably be best not to acknowledge them. They weren't going to be so kind, though.

"Tony Stark, look at me!" Tony felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder and implore him to turn around. Having no other choice, he did exactly that and came face-to-face with an extremely angry Lara Conroy. Despite her rage, Tony didn't feel afraid or threatened. They didn't call it "liquid courage" for nothing, after all.

"Hey there, Larissa," he said. "What's up?"

"We're leaving." Tony frowned at the declaration.

"What?" he said. "Why? I'm having fun."

"No arguments." Lara's voice was unwaveringly firm. "We're leaving now."

She grabbed him by the wrist and started pulling him towards the door. He didn't immediately resist. He was somehow just aware enough of his surroundings to know that starting a scene in front of such a crowd wasn't a good idea. He waited until they were out in the hall and out of view of other people to pull his wrist back. Lara's grip broke rather easily and once he freed the limb, Tony cradled it against his chest protectively.

"What the hell?" he said. "What is wrong with you?"

"You're drunk." Tony rolled his eyes.

"That's obvious," he said. "What else has got your panties in a twist?" Lara's face went red. Whether it was in embarrassment or anger, Tony couldn't tell. By her tone, he would guess the later.

"**You're drunk**," she stated again, much harsher this time. "Completely blitzed out of your mind. You can barely stand, let alone hold a conversation. You need to go back to the hotel."

"I'm fine," Tony said. "I'm not leaving."

"Yes, you are," Lara said. "We're going to get you some Tylenol, get you some water, get you to bed, get to the hotel, and get some food in you." She narrowed her eyes at her own wording. "Alright, probably not in that order, but still, we're doing all those things." Again, Lara grabbed him by the wrist and started pulling him towards the exit. Tony did more to resist her this time.

"No!" he yelled. "I don't want to go!"

"Too bad," Lara said. "We're going." They made it through the first set of double doors before Tony was able to break Lara's grip again.

"Stop!" he shouted. "What is wrong with you? What the fuck makes you think that you can tell me where to go and what to do? I'm the boss of you!"

"Because you're drunk and I'm completely sober," Lara said. "Besides, it's my job to help you and I think not letting you make a drunken ass of yourself counts as helping!"

"I don't need your help!" Tony shouted.

"Well, you need someone's help," Lara shouted back. "Why not just go ahead and accept mine?"

"You can't force people to get help, especially if they don't need it! I don't need it! I'm fucking Iron Man for Christ's sake!"

"That doesn't make you invincible, Tony!"

"Oh, and you are?"

"No! I don't even…" Lara took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm herself to attempt to gain some semblance of control over the situation. "Let's just go back to the hotel. You're not in any condition to stay."

"You started it," Tony pointed out. "I was fine until you started screaming at me." For some reason, that statement caused Lara to go rigid.

"No," she said slowly. "You started screaming at me first."

"No," Tony said. "You grabbed me and dragged me out of there! If the roles were reversed, you would be screaming assault!" He didn't know what it was he said, but Lara went completely pale and it looked like she started shaking a bit.

"I…" she stammered out. "I'm sorry." She quickly turned and ran back inside the building. Not giving her a second glance, Tony turned and walked right out. He wasn't going to go back to the hotel, but he wasn't going to stay there, either.

* * *

**Thank you to mfaerie32 for the review and DarkSkitty for the favorite! I'm glad to see that people are enjoying this! **

**I hope everyone's having a wonderful holiday! I'm probably going to spend it relaxing in my room and hoping that tonight none of the neighbors sets off any fireworks because that is loud, annoying, and kind of a problem considering certain people I live with's mental health issues. (I should note the neighbors have actually been pretty good thus far about not setting off two many fireworks displays. I've only heard three total since Memorial Day whereas last year I was hearing three or four every night. I think the police might be cracking down on them.)**

**Anyways, if you enjoyed this chapter please leave a review! **

**Remember kids, I'm not as think as you drunk I am.**

* * *

**Originally uploaded to FFN on 7/4/19.**


	8. A Token of My Extreme

**Yeah, remember that domestic violence warning at the beginning? Well, here it is...**

* * *

**Saturday, May 7th, 2005**

Lara was dead tired. She had been working this counterfeiting case for weeks and just two days ago she had gotten the break she needed. She hadn't been home since then and the most sleep she had gotten was a forty-five-minute nap at her desk somewhere around three AM on Friday. It was now edging close to five o'clock in the evening on Saturday. The sooner she got some food in her and into bed, the better.

Although their apartment building didn't have stairs, the apartment Lara shared with her husband Dante was on the second floor. It wasn't a ridiculous climb by any means, but enough to make an already sleep-deprived person feel even more agonized amounts of exhaustion. Lara fumbled with her keys as she tried to unlock the door and let out an aggravated curse. Of course, the door would refuse to cooperate with her just when she was merely a few paces from her bed, but that's how life goes, right?

Her second attempt was much better. This time, she managed to get the key in the lock and turn it. She would have jumped for joy if she hadn't been so tired. That victorious feeling waned, however, when she walked in to the apartment to see her husband lying shirtless on the couch with a blanket draped over him, nursing a beer. From the looks of things, he hadn't moved all day. Hell, he probably had spent the entirety of the last two days on that couch, watching whatever came on Channel 2. In any case, Lara was not happy. Nonetheless, she was cordial enough to greet him as she shut the door behind her.

"Hey," she said. Dante gave a half-hearted grunt in reply. "How was work?"

"Fine," was the only response she got.

"Did you actually go or are you just saying that?" Dante glared at her.

"Yes, I actually went," he confirmed. "Trevor needs you to look at the books again." Lara did nothing to hide the annoyed look on her face as she started to slip her shoes off.

"Why should I?" she asked. "That's Trevor's job, not mine."

"You're better at it than him," Dante shrugged.

"Trevor's a CPA," Lara pointed out. "I shouldn't be."

"Still, can you do it?" Dante asked. Lara groaned and brought a hand to her head.

"Maybe, if I have time later," Lara relented. She walked past Dante and into the attached kitchen. "I don't know. I've had a long week and I just want to eat something and lie down."

"You realize that this is my business we're talking about here," Dante said. "You should take it more seriously."

"Said the pot to the kettle." Dante sat up and narrowed his eyes at her.

"You have something you want to say?" Lara shrugged and shook her head nonchalantly.

"No," she said. "I was just pointing out the hypocrisy in that statement, you know, given that you clearly don't take your own business seriously."

"Hey," Dante shouted. "I earn my keep!"

"And I don't?" Lara questioned. "Hell, I earn more than you and I'm a **federal agent**. That's kind of fucked, but not surprising given that you never go into work!"

"I was in a motorcycle accident!" Dante defended.

"Yeah," Lara said. "A year ago! You can stand on that leg just fine! It's not an excuse!"

"It's still healing!"

"Bullshit!"

"You know what," Dante said as he stood up. "I don't have to deal with this crap. I'm going in the room!"

"Oh yeah," Lara said. "Real mature, Dante! Just hide from your problems like everything else! What a man you are!"

"Screw you!" He went into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

"If we just left it at that, then we wouldn't be here, now would we?" Lara knew Dante wasn't listening anymore, but it just felt **so good** to scream that.

Sighing, Lara set off to make herself a sandwich. She didn't do anything too overboard; just bread, Balgonie, cheese, and mayo. After thoroughly spreading the mayo on her sandwich, she went to toss the knife she was using into the sink and caught sight of a bright flash of red stuffed between the edge of the sink and the microwave. At first, she dismissed it as being a dishrag which would have made sense, however, none of the dishrags that they owned were red and this one was sparkly. Letting curiosity get the better of her, Lara gave in and picked up the piece of fabric.

Unfolding it, she quickly found it to be a pair of underwear. Women's underwear to be specific. The kinda professional stripper or someone a little bit more illegal than a stripper would wear. Although Lara herself sometimes liked to wear a little more risqué undergarments, she knew for a fact that these weren't hers.

_What did the woman across the hall say she did for work? Waitressing?_ Yeah, Lara didn't buy that for a second. No waitress could afford to live in New York City on that salary alone. Even if they were in Queens, it still seemed highly unprobeable. It was either that, or her husband had something else he wasn't telling her. Either way, Lara was none too pleased.

Not thinking due to anger overtaking her, she charged into the bedroom with the wadded-up panties in her hand. She only spared the thought to worry about whether her hand would get chlamydia from touching the underwear. Ripping open the door, Dante jumped a bit when Lara stepped into the room.

"Tell your whore that next time she goes to bang someone else's husband, to remember to take her panties when she leaves." She then tossed the underwear at Dante, who flinched as if he was expecting her to hurl something heavier. As soon as the underwear left her hand, Lara was turning back to get her sandwich and purse and get out of there ASAP. Unfortunately, Dante got up and followed her.

"Listen, I can explain," Dante started, but Lara raised a hand, not letting him finish.

"I don't want to hear it."

"No, it's not what you think," Dante tried to say. "I wasn't cheating on you."

"Sure, you weren't," Lara said. "Whose underwear are these, then? Because I know they're not mine."

"Uh… They're mine?" Lara narrowed her eyes. Just simply the fact that it was stated as a question told her that this wasn't the case.

"They're yours?" she questioned.

"Yeah." Dante tried to nod, trying to be nonchalant but failed miserably.

"Where did you get them?"

"The… The Gap?"

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I had no idea they sold extremely risqué lingerie at the Gap." Dante shrugged.

"They sell a lot of things at the Gap," he said. "You don't know."

"You're right, I don't," Lara said. "So, how long has this been going on?"

"I don't know."

"Is it like a fetish?"

"I don't know."

"Do you just like looking at women's underwear or do you actually wear them yourself?"

"I don't know."

"So, does this mean that you're gay or a transvestite now?" Lara knew that was the wrong sort of question to ask someone if you were in that sort of situation. However, she knew he was lying, and she wanted him to knock it off and get a bit of a reaction out of him. "I mean, I'm your wife. I think I have the right to know."

"Oh, fuck **no**!" Dante shouted at the same time Lara was speaking. "Shit, I can't keep this up anymore! Fine! I admit it! There was someone here yesterday!"

"A woman?"

"Yes, a woman!" Dante was practically growling. Lara didn't bat an eyelash.

"…That you had sex with?"

"**No**." Dante's voice was firm, but the fact that he wouldn't make eye contact left Lara unconvinced.

"Look me in the eye and say that." Dante didn't make eye contact and he didn't speak up. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Goodbye."

Just as she initially set out to do, Lara grabbed her purse and her sandwich and headed out the door. She didn't even stop to put on her shoes. She just left.

Unfortunately, Dante wasn't willing to let her go so easily. He followed her out into the hallway and grabbed her wrist at the top of the stairs. Instinctively, Lara pulled her wrist back and struck him across the face, **hard**.

"Ow!" he cried out instantly. Lara froze up. She looked at her hand, already shaking. She knew she should run but found she couldn't. Her mouth opened as if to scream and shut again without making a sound. Only one thought flashed through her mind.

**_Holy hell, I just hit my husband!_**

For a moment, Dante just stood there, rubbing his wounded cheek. Slowly, he looked up at her, his eyes as shocked as hers.

"What the fuck," he shouted. "You hit me!"

"You grabbed me!" Lara defended.

"That doesn't mean you hit me!" Dante protested.

"**You grabbed me**!" Lara repeated. "I wasn't sure what you were going to do! It was self-defense!"

"Self-defense?" Dante questioned. "Is that what you're going to tell the cops? You're going to tell them that I was beating on you and you hit me?"

"Ah…" Lara tried to cut in, but Dante stopped her.

"What?" he said. "Just because you're a girl and I'm a guy you think you can just hit me and get away with it? You know the cops aren't going to buy that shit! Guy hits a girl; he gets the book thrown at him! Girl hits a guy; they make excuses for her and a white knight rides off with her into the sunset!"

"I can't say that I'm not going to go to the cops." Dante scoffed at that.

"Fine," he said. "If you're going to tell them a story, we might as well make it true."

There was a gap in Lara's memory after that. One second, she was standing at the top of the stairs, the next she was at the bottom of them, trying to haul herself to her feet with pain starting to spread throughout her body. It didn't take a genius to fill in the blanks.

Gasping for breath, Lara looked around for her purse and found it resting by the front door. She grabbed it fast and pulled it over her shoulder. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she didn't look up or behind her as she reached for the knob.

"I want a divorce!"

"You've got one, sweetheart," was the last thing she heard him say before she pushed the door open and stepped outside.

* * *

**Sunday, January 22nd, 2012**

Stepping out of the women's room, Lara wasn't expecting anyone to be waiting for her. Certain she knew who it was and not bothering to look at them, Lara thrust the dress she had been wearing into their arms and started to walk away.

"Take your damn dress back, Stark," she said. "Versace is more to my taste anyway."

"I'm not Tony." Lara finally glanced behind her and saw that she had indeed been mistaken. Bruce had been waiting for her, not Tony.

_Whoops!_

"Sorry," she apologized, but she didn't stop, slow her pace, or even attempt to take the dress back. Instead, she kept pushing forward with only one destination in mind: the exit.

"What?" Bruce was trying to keep up with her while he (at least attempted to) neatly fold the dress. Lara was essentially slow running so it's not like she was helping any. "Slow down. Where are you going?"

"Don't know," she said. "Don't care as long as it's far, far away."

"Slow down." Reluctantly, Lara slowed her pace a bit, allowing Bruce to catch up. He still had to run, though. "What happened?"

"Pretty sure I just got fired." Lara didn't miss a beat. She spoke as simply as if she was ordering breakfast.

"What? Lara please, stop." Although Lara wanted to just go and not stop until she was in the next country, she found herself heading his command, if for any reason because she didn't want to force him to grab her. Slowly, she turned towards him. Bruce had to pause for a second to catch his breath before he spoke. "What happened?"

"You can probably figure it out."

"You and Tony were fighting," Bruce said. "I know that. We could hear you in the hallway. Then you guys left and when you came back you were crying and locked yourself in the bathroom."

"I didn't lock myself in there," Lara pointed out.

"Well, you went somewhere most of us couldn't follow you," Bruce amended.

"Romanoff could."

"Would you talk to Romanoff?" Lara shrugged.

"Fair point," she admitted. "Where'd Stark go?"

"He didn't come back in," Bruce said. "Steve ran out after him."

"I wish him the best of luck," Lara said. "He's going to need it."

"What happened? Do you think you're calm enough to explain it?" Lara nodded and started walking towards a bench lined up against the wall. Bruce followed her. Sitting down and taking a deep breath, Lara figured out how she would explain it.

"I confronted Tony about his alcoholism," she finally said. "I know, not the right time or place, but I could tell that he was making people uncomfortable and figured that I should probably get him out of the public eye as soon as possible."

"It didn't go as planned?" Lara shook her head.

"I may have panicked a little and made things worse." Bruce nodded in understanding.

"Did he outright say you were fired? Is that why you were crying?" Again, she shook her head.

"No," she said. "He didn't outright say it, but I know I'm not his favorite person now. Firing is probably somewhere on the horizon."

"You don't know that," Bruce pointed out.

"I think I do."

"You're upset," Bruce said. "Don't think the worst. Tony's not that petty."

"**You** didn't get in a screaming match with him."

"If I did, we would all be dead right now." Alright, Lara did have to give him that one. It was a good point. "Listen, it's probably not as bad as you think. Tony is drunk after all. Chances are he won't remember any of this tomorrow." Lara took a deep breath and slowly nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," she said. "You're probably right."

"Can I ask one thing, though, if it's not too much?"

"Yeah, sure, go ahead."

"Why were you crying?" Bruce held one hand up placatingly. "I don't mean to pry, but you did say that he didn't outright fire you…"

"No, no it's fine," Lara assured. "It's just… An argument he made reminded me of something I'd rather forget. That's all it was. Not something worth talking about." Bruce gave her a concerned look but nonetheless nodded in understanding.

For a couple of moments, it was quiet. Lara directed her gaze down to her feet and just concentrated on breathing. Slowly but surely, she started to relax.

"Okay, so what happens now?" Lara looked up and gave Bruce a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Steve and Tony left," Bruce pointed out. "I know they weren't supposed to do that."

"No, they weren't." Lara glanced down the hallway and into the archways that led to the main ballroom, trying to see if there was anyone, she at leased halfway recognized. "Are Romanoff and Barton still here?"

"As far as I know," Bruce said. "Why?"

"I still want to leave." She didn't see much point in staying after all. She had already humiliated herself and changed into street clothes. Plus, Tony – the person she was there to personally assist – had already walked out. There was nothing to stop her from doing the same. Bruce seemed to realize all of this and didn't try to argue with her.

"Alright," he said. "Are you going back to the hotel?"

"No," Lara said. "At least, not directly. I need some comfort food first. I'm going to find some ice cream." Bruce raised an eyebrow at that.

"You're diabetic," he pointed out. Lara shrugged.

"They make diabetic ice cream," she said. "At least I think they do."

"So, you're going to walk around D.C. at nine-thirty at night looking for an ice cream shop that sells diabetic ice cream and that's open in the middle of January."

"Of course not," Lara said. "I'll go to Union Station. I remember the mall there had an ice cream place and they're bound to be open 24/7."

"Right," Bruce said, but Lara could tell by his tone that he wasn't quite convinced. "Would you mind if I went with you?"

"No, I don't," she said. "But shouldn't you stay here? I mean, I doubt it would be good PR for you all to suddenly leave, right?"

"Steve and Tony already sunk that boat," Bruce pointed out. "What's one more person?" Lara couldn't argue with that.

"Alright then," she said as she got up. "Allons-y."

* * *

"How's the ice cream?" Lara opened her eyes and smiled as she swallowed the bite she had been savoring.

"So good," she answered. "I mean, not as good as non-diabetic ice cream, but good enough to suffice."

They took a cab to Union Station. Although D.C. hadn't gotten snow in a few days, it hasn't gotten warm enough for the snow they already had to melt, either. As such, they didn't want to walk there, so taking a cab seemed like the best option, especially when you considered that Lara was wearing open-toed shoes.

When they arrived at the station, Lara headed for the basement level as that's where she remembered most of the restaurants being. There was indeed a place that sold ice cream and they did have a diabetic-friendly fare in stock. Unfortunately, the only flavor they could offer her was vanilla; the blandest of all the ice creams. She could deal with it, though. She wasn't **that** picky.

All Bruce had gotten for himself was a bottle of water. He said he was still full of all the food he ate at the gala, but Lara still felt guilty about pigging out on ice cream while he had nothing. She would offer to share her food, but she knew from reading Amazon reviews of Haribo Sugar-Free Gummi Bears that eating diabetic food could make non-diabetics very sick. She didn't wish that upon Bruce (or anyone, really) so she refrained from doing so. Either way, Bruce didn't seem to mind.

"You've had non-diabetic ice cream before?" he asked in response to her earlier statement. "Wouldn't that make you sick?" Lara shook her head.

"I wasn't born diabetic," she explained. "I had a bullet rupture my pancreas and part of my stomach. The doctors were able to repair my stomach, but they had to amputate the part of my pancreas that produces insulin, leaving me diabetic."

"I'm sorry to hear about that." Lara shrugged.

"It's not like it was something I wouldn't do again," she said. "Even if I was working counterfeiting at the time, I was still a Secret Service Agent. It was my duty to protect and I did just that."

"Is that why you left the Secret Service?" Bruce asked. "You were too hurt to work?"

"No," she said. "In order to return to work, I had to pass a mental health screening. I failed miserably." Bruce raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Don't worry, I've gotten help. I'm fine now, but I was in a bad place for a while. It took a bit for me to get back up on my feet, but I did it somehow and I got this job. Not sure how I did that either, but…"

"You're smart," Bruce said. "Skilled. Capable. I could see why Tony would pick you."

"Thanks," Lara said with a bit of a smile. "What about you? How have things been going." Bruce gave a humorless laugh.

"You know as well as I do that this has been the day from hell," he said.

"I know," Lara agreed. "I was more talking about life in general. You know, getting back up on your feet?"

"Good, I guess," Bruce said. "I've been trying to pick my research up where I left off. Although, I have to admit that I'm now looking less for a cure than I am trying to find answers as to what went wrong."

"How's that going?"

"I don't know yet," Bruce said. "Talking to Steve has given me some helpful hints, though."

"Like what?"

"Well, first of all, the type of radiation used on him to accelerate his muscle growth was vita radiation, not gamma radiation," Bruce explained.

"I take it there's a difference?"

"Oh, a huge difference," Bruce said. "Gamma rays have a shorter wavelength and are more powerful than vita-rays. Just to give you an idea, vita rays can't penetrate anything thicker than a heavy-duty sheet of plastic or vinyl. The only thing that can stop gamma rays is thick layers of concrete and lead."

"Seriously?" Bruce nodded. "So essentially Steve took steroids while you took steroids crossed with crack cocaine." Bruce laughed.

"Well, I think that's a drastic oversimplification," he said. "But it's along the right track."

"Yeah," Lara said. "I didn't do horrible in science in high school, but mathematics is definitely more my forte."

"Understandable," Bruce said.

"So, is that all that went wrong?"

"No." Bruce shook his head. "There are other factors to consider as well. For example, I have no idea if I got Dr. Erskine's original formula exactly right. Betty and I tried to decode his notes as best we could, but it used deep levels of encryption. We're talking ciphers on top of ciphers. Not even the best code breakers back in the day could figure it out. It's very much possible that there's something in there we missed."

"Do you still have the notes?"

"No," he said. "Betty saved them when I went on the run, but I'd imagine the government would have taken them back after the Harlem incident."

"Aw," Lara said, looking a little dejected. "Too bad. I love a good cipher."

"It's a lot more complex than a simple cipher." Lara shrugged.

"That doesn't deter me," she said. "I've been trying to figure out the Zodiac and Tamám Shud ciphers for years."

"Any luck?"

"No," Lara said. "But that never stops me from trying."

"Kudos, then."

"Thanks." Lara smiled. "So, what about the rest of your life?" Bruce's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What about it?"

"Well, what do you do when you're not working on your research?"

"Uh… Sleep, eat, shower… The basic stuff you need to do for survival?" Lara gave him a look of disbelief.

"That's it?"

"Yeah," Bruce said. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know," Lara said. "You need to do something to entertain yourself."

"Science is my entertainment."

"It's your job," Lara pointed out.

"Jobs can be entertaining," Bruce argued.

"They can," Lara agreed. "But you don't get out or do anything for fun?"

"No," Bruce said. "I haven't left the tower much since the Chitauri attack. In fact, I think the last time was for Coulson's funeral."

"You're serious?" Bruce nodded. "Holy hell! I didn't realize you've been holed up in there since September. How have you not gone stir crazy?"

"I manage," Bruce said. "Besides, I shouldn't be out in public where people could get hurt. It's safer that way."

"But is that any way to live your life?" Things were quiet for a moment as Bruce seemed to consider her question. He didn't get a chance to answer, though, as someone decided to take advantage of the lull in their conversation.

A woman with her hair cut in a short, blonde bob walked up to them. She was wearing a white button-up shirt and khaki pants. In her arms were a clipboard and a series of papers. Lara frowned. She probably wanted them to sign something.

"Hi," she said. "My name is Lucy and I was wondering if you two would like to take a personality assessment."

"No thank you," Bruce answered before Lara could. "We're good."

"Are you sure?" Lucy asked. "It's free."

"…Until we finish the assessment," Bruce said. "Then we have to pay to find out whatever 'answer' it is you came up with."

"Nope," Lucy assured. "The personality test is one-hundred percent completely free through and through. Our process is based on pure sociological research. You'll find it's not like the scams you see on the internet."

"How so?" Bruce gave Lara a surprised look. Lara raised her eyebrows as if daring him to challenge her.

"Well, first we interview you face-to-face. Second, our assessment consists entirely of statements you can agree to or disagree with. It makes things a lot simpler and much more precise."

"And this is free?"

"Absolutely." Lara shrugged.

"What the hell," she said. "Might as well give it a shot."

"What?" Lara wanted to laugh at the look of shock on Bruce's face, but she knew that would give her away to Lucy.

"Excellent," Lucy said in an overly cheerful voice. "If you'll just follow me into our offices, we'll get you settled in and started in a jiffy." Lucy gestured to a (thankfully) well-lit storefront about five yards diagonal from them. Lara nodded and started to get up, but Bruce put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"Uh, can I just talk to my friend here for a quick second?" Lucy looked confused but nodded.

"Alright," she said. "I'll be over there when you're ready to start." Lucy then started to walk back over to the storefront. Lara looked at Bruce.

"What?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea? This seems kind of sketchy at best." Lara raised her eyebrows, surprised at the concern. Still, she was quick to reassure.

"I'll be fine," she said. "Worse comes to worst I get scammed out of a few bucks and we have a good laugh about it."

"You sure about that?" Bruce asked. "This is a train station after all. There are probably more than a few charlatans around here ready to take advantage of weary travelers."

"What is this, the 1800s?" Lara asked. "Look, they have a storefront. I highly doubt the station would rent out retail space to a group of rag-tag, fast-talking swindlers from Timbuktu." Bruce relented, admitting with a nod that she had a point. "Besides, I'll be fine. If one of them tries to take me, I'll knock them out." Lara suddenly felt horrible for saying that but didn't let it show on her face.

"Alright," he said. "I'll be waiting right out front." Lara nodded.

"Thank you." She then walked past him and went to the storefront where Lucy was waiting. The other woman smiled.

"All set?" Lara nodded. "Good. If you'll just follow me, we'll get you settled into a testing room."

Lara followed Lucy, glancing back only once to make sure Bruce would still be waiting for her. He was and had even moved to a spot close to the storefront. That eased Lara's mind a little. As she started to look away, however, she could have sworn that she saw Bruce's expression falter while he started to look up. She didn't give too much thought to it, though, assuming it just to be her an imagination.

The storefront was rather neat and clean, and its layout gave Lara the impression that it used to be a bank. The floor was hardwood and the same shade of tan as the counter that boxed in the back-left corner. There were a few people manning the counter and it was clear to Lara that the teller's station was being used as a payment counter. She noted that and prepared her denials for when they started pressing her to give out credit card information.

To the right, there appeared to be a few sets of offices, again probably left over from when the space used to be a bank. Lucy led her over to one of these offices, lightly tapping on the door before partially opening it. She quietly conversed with whoever was inside before fully opening it and gesturing for Lara to go in. There, she saw a young man with blond hair sitting at a conference table. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were the chair he was sitting in and the one she was supposed to. Inexplicably, Lara felt a chill go down her spine.

"This is Carl," Lucy said. "He's the one that's going to be running your test today."

"Hello," he said politely. Lucy handed Lara a packet.

"You can fill this out afterward." Lara gave her a nod and a quick thanks. Lucy left the room and Lara sat down across from Carl. He didn't waste any time in getting started.

"I'm going to make a series of statements," he explained. "All you have to do is say yes or no as to whether or not you believe that statement applies to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Lara agreed.

"Then let's begin." Carl's face became expressionless, only serving to unnerve Lara further. She was willing to write this off as well, thinking he probably had to do that to prevent causing some sort of interference with the test results. At least, that's what she hoped. "You would describe yourself as honest."

"Yes."

"You would generally describe yourself as happy, though there are times where you feel sad."

"No." She was on anti-depressants for a reason, after all. Carl didn't show any signs of confusion or alarm at the response.

"You would rather give orders than take them."

"No." Lara had been in both positions and found order-taking to be a lot less stressful.

"You would describe yourself as sociable, but sometimes you like to spend time alone."

"Yes."

"You sometimes ponder the nature of your existence."

"Yes."

It went on like that for another twenty minutes. Occasionally, there were statements that Lara would disagree with, but she mostly found herself agreeing. It was weird, though. The statements were very vague and when she thought about it, they could apply to anyone. It served to add to the ever-growing feeling that something wasn't right. Eventually, Carl finished the assessment and was able to conclude it right then and there.

"Well, I hate to tell you this, but your test turned up some very alarming results." Lara raised an eyebrow.

"Like what?"

"The test showed that you have a depressive personality and you have difficulty asserting yourself." Lara frowned.

"I don't think that sounds right." The "depressive personality" part she had no qualms with. (Again, she was on anti-depressants.) However, she didn't think she had a problem asserting herself. In fact, she had the exact opposite problem given that she hit people that hadn't even hurt her. She didn't want to explain that to a stranger, but that wouldn't stop Carl from pressing.

"Oh," he said. "How so?"

"I just don't feel it matches my personality." Given the fact that he probably got that response a lot, Carl didn't seem phased by it. In fact, he had clearly prepared for that.

"What if I told you that we are more than we perceive ourselves as; that we all have a subconscious personality constantly trying to make itself known to the world and the key to unlocking your full potential was to tap into your subconscious personality to create a stronger, better self."

"I'd say enough with the foreplay, slick. What are you selling?" Lara smirked at the aghast expression that crossed Carl's face. "What? You're clearly running a scam here. Just tell me what it is you want me to buy and I'll be on my merry way."

"We're not trying to sell you anything," Carl said. "What we are giving you is the key to unlock your full potential; to awaken you truly to the whole being that you are. Wouldn't you like to become whole again?"

"Depends," Lara said. "Does becoming whole cost money?"

"Well, there are some minor fees that would need to be assessed…" Lara stood up.

"I think I'm whole enough. Goodbye." She left the room, not listening to Carl's protests and demands for her to stay. She rolled her eyes. He had to know it was completely useless.

Stepping out of the room, Lara was surprised to see Bruce standing at the teller's counter, talking to the woman behind the desk. Before she could approach him, Lucy walked right up to her, coming to stand so close that she was invading Lara's personal space.

"So, how was your assessment? Are you ready to take the next step on the journey?" Lara wanted to take a step back but was afraid it would lead to another and another until she was eventually backed into a corner. She knew better than to allow that.

"No," she carefully declined. "I'm not interested."

"Are you sure?" The question came out as more of a demand. "You've already taken the first step. Why not go all the way?"

"Because I'm not interested." Lucy looked like she was about to say something to pressure her more. Luckily, Bruce chose that moment to cut in and save her.

"Hey, Lara," he said. "The ten-forty to Philadelphia starts boarding in a few minutes! We have to go!" Lara watched as Lucy's face fell.

"I have to go. Excuse me."

Lara rushed around Lucy and over to Bruce's side. The two of them started fast-walking to the escalators, not bothering to look back. Without needing to discuss it, the two of them walked out of the station and hailed a cab to take them back to the hotel. Lara held her breath until they pulled out of Columbus Circle.

"Thank God," she said. "That was really freaky."

"What was that?" Bruce asked. "What did they do in there?"

"Next to nothing. They just asked me if I agreed with a bunch of vague statements and told me I was depressed. I walked out of there before they could sell me anything." She sighed. "That wasn't as fun as I was expecting, but at least I didn't get told anything that I was afraid of hearing."

"Like what?"

"Like that, I'm an abuser." Surprisingly, Bruce didn't have any visible reaction to that statement.

"You're not. Trust me, I'd know." Lara wasn't convinced.

"Sometimes the scariest of monsters wear the most unassuming masks," she said. "They're able to fool everyone; even themselves."

"You are not that monster." Lara looked at him. She could see what he was thinking clearly in his eyes. She would try to argue with him, but she had a feeling it was a battle of wills she would ultimately lose. As such, she didn't comment on it.

For a moment, she directed her gaze to the scenery passing by them but was interrupted when she felt something cold press up against the back of her hand. She turned to see Bruce holding her ice cream out to her.

"There's still some left. Do you want to finish it?"

"Yes please."

Lara accepted the medium-sized cup in one hand and reached for the plastic spoon with the other, or at least tried to. She found her other hand to already be occupied by a stack of papers; the packet that Lucy had given her. When she went to set them aside, she caught sight of the cover page. There, written in the bold text was **Peoples Unity Church of the Supreme Understanding**.

_Shit._

* * *

**Thank you to loverstar for leaving kudos on AO3 and mfaerie32 on FFN for the review! It really means a lot! :)**

**A lot of you are probably disappointed that we didn't see any Steve and Tony in this chapter (especially considering the bad place I left Tony in the last chapter), but don't worry! They'll be back next chapter! In the meantime, I hope you didn't mind spending time with Lara and Bruce!**

**Remember kids, if you don't leave a review, I'm gonna tie you to the bed and set this house on fire!**

* * *

**Originally uploaded to FFN on 7/8/19**


	9. I'd Rather Be at Jones Beach

**Finally, we find out what happened to Tony! Just promise not to be too mad at me.**

* * *

**Sunday, January 22nd, 2012**

Steve spent much of the night looking for Tony. When Natasha returned to the table without him, Steve knew something had gone wrong. Natasha told him that she had left Tony by the bar. He was none-too-pleased with that but figured that argument could be left for later. Steve's priority was to find Tony and get him back to the table safely.

The first place Steve headed for was the bar in the back of the room. He asked the bartender if he'd seen Tony (and was momentarily thankful for his boyfriend's celebrity status as it made searching for him so much easier. All he'd have to ask was "have you seen Tony Stark?" Anyone would automatically know who he was talking about.) The bartended had in fact seen Tony and confessed to making him a drink. In his defense, it wasn't made clear to him that Tony was already drunk until after he had already served him. After ordering his drink, Tony had spotted someone he recognized and took off in their direction. The bartender promised Steve that if Tony came back, he wouldn't serve him. Steve gave the man a grateful thanks before going off in the direction that Tony was last seen going.

He couldn't find the person that the bartender saw Tony talking with, but Steve did find several people who had encountered Tony. Some of them didn't notice anything wrong with Tony at all. Some of them described his behavior as odd, but nothing too alarming. Others described him as being inattentive and wobbly on his feet, and a few expressed genuine concerns for him. All of them ended up telling Steve the exact same thing: "He was here a moment ago. You just missed him."

At that point, Steve was frustrated. He was wondering if he should go back to the table and restart his search from there when he heard a commotion. He could clearly recognize Tony and Lara's voices screaming at each other. Immediately, he followed the shouting out into the hallway and caught sight of Tony and Lara stepping out into the foyer. They stopped before they could go through the second set of doors leading outside, which caused Steve to slow his pace a bit.

The foyer doors and the outside doors were both made of glass. This meant Steve would see if one or both left. It also meant that he could still hear them shouting. Granted, the glass muffled the sound and even with his enhanced hearing he couldn't exactly make out what they were saying. However, he knew Lara sounded angry while Tony sounded drunk. Steve could very easily put the pieces together and figure out what they were arguing about.

Even though they were arguing, Steve wasn't worried about either of them becoming violent. Lara was clearly furious, but she did keep her hands in plain sight even took steps to appear less threatening. Tony, meanwhile, was too drunk to walk a straight line, never mind start throwing hands. Steve felt like they wouldn't hurt each other, so he didn't rush to approach them. A slow and calm approach was probably the best to diffuse the situation.

However, that plan didn't factor in that sometimes the best weapons come in the form of words. Tony said something to Lara and Steve could clearly see her face drop. Within seconds Lara was distraught. She turned and headed back inside. Tony, meanwhile, turned and left the building. Steve could see that Lara was tearing up as she went to the front desk, but he figured she'd be fine. Now Tony was both the more dangerous one and the one more likely to be in danger; it was more crucial to get to him.

Sprinting out the door, Steve quickly and easily caught up with to Tony just in time to save him from tripping and falling down the stairs. Just as he had many countless times before, Steve slipped his arm around Tony's shoulders and tried to help him support himself. It was difficult but at least Steve got him standing on his own two feet. Steve glanced around for a spot where Tony could rest. The only spot that was available and not completely covered in snow was a bench that was off to the side at the bottom of the stairs. Steve sighed. It would be difficult, but he was sure he and Tony could manage it somehow.

"Alright," Steve said as he made sure he had a good grip on Tony. "Let's go down the stairs." Tony muttered something incoherent. "Are you going to help me?"

"…Sure," was the eventual response he got. Steve slowly led the way down the first step, and carefully Tony followed him. They repeated the process for several more steps and despite being as inebriated as he was, Tony didn't close his eyes once. They made it to the bottom of the stairs safely and Steve started to lead Tony over to the bench.

Tony, however, wasn't having it. As soon as Steve started lowering him onto the bench, Tony started resisting, pushing Steve away and attempting to stand up.

"No," he said. "I don't wanna…"

"Please, Tony," Steve implored. "You need to sit down, at least for a minute."

"I'm fine," he tried to say but Steve wouldn't hear it.

"No," he said. "You're not fine. You're very clearly not fine. You need to sit down and collect yourself."

"I'm fine," Tony said. "I need to go."

"You **need** to sit." Steve gently tried to push Tony back down.

"I need to go home." Steve looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Home?" he questioned. "Like back to the hotel?"

"No."

"Then where… Tony, please sit down."

"No," Tony did his best to push against Steve. Although Steve had the strength advantage, he didn't want to hurt Tony and struggled to find a balance. "I want to go home. I **need** to go home."

"Where?" Steve asked. "If you don't mean the hotel, then where? The tower? Your house?"

"I don't know," Tony said. "Any of them. Hell, I'll even sleep on a deserted beach on Long Island. That was more of a home to me than any of Howard's houses."

"Tony, you're not going to Long Island," Steve said. "If you want to go back to the hotel, we'll go back to the hotel. I just think you should sit down for a second first, okay?"

"No, I need to go." Tony finally managed to push around Steve. He started stumbling towards the street. "Where's the limo?" Steve was quick to follow him.

"Don't take the limo," Steve said. "The others still need to get back."

"I'm taking the limo."

"I don't think they have any cash on them," Steve said. "They can't catch a cab."

"I'm taking the limo."

"Tony!"

"There it is!" Tony pointed to a lot across the street. There were several limousines parked there, all of them indistinguishable to each other. Steve questioned how Tony could possibly know which one theirs was and that one-second distraction was all that was needed for mayhem to strike. Tony started to step out into the street, directly into the path of oncoming traffic.

"**Tony!**" Steve rushed out to grab his shoulder and stop him from blindly walking into the street. Tony tried to shrug him off.

"Let go," he demanded.

"**No**," Steve said. "Come back to the sidewalk! You're going to get hurt!"

"No!" Tony broke Steve's grip on him and started to walk into the path of an oncoming Lexus. Steve sprinted forward and pushed Tony as far out of the way as he could. Steve started to brace himself for impact but luckily the driver of the Lexus had one foot on the breaks. He stopped just in time and shouted the most creative string of curse words Steve had ever heard out the car window. That was saying something, considering he was in the Army.

Steve quickly started looking for Tony. He was relieved to see that Tony was unharmed and was also surprised to see that he made it to the other side of the street without incident. Steve looked both ways to make sure no one else was coming before running after him. When he caught up, he grabbed Tony by the shoulder and turned him to face him.

"What the hell?" Tony said. "What are you doing?"

"I should be the one asking you that," Steve said. "You ran into the street and nearly got yourself killed! What were you thinking?"

"I want to go home." Tony broke Steve's grip and started walking in the direction of the limos again. Steve followed closely behind.

"Yeah," Steve said. "I got that, but that doesn't mean you run out into the street!" As he was saying that, Steve realized that he was talking to a brick wall. Tony was drunk. Of course, he wouldn't see danger when it was right in front of him. Steve facepalmed at his own stupidity. That conversation could wait until Tony was sober. For right now, the bigger issue was getting him away from where he could hurt himself and getting him to rest.

Amazingly, Tony was able to find their limo with relative ease. Steve had to applaud him for that. He was perfectly sober, and he couldn't tell one from the other. Though, their driver was standing in front of it, smoking a cigarette, so that was probably a helpful indicator. Tony shouted at the man that they were leaving and – looking rather annoyed – the driver stamped out his cigarette. Steve offered him an apology, but the driver acted like he didn't hear it.

Steve tried to help Tony into the car, but Tony pushed his hands away. He got into the seat alright on his own but struggled with the seatbelt. Steve took the belt from him and got him buckled up properly. Tony glared at him the entire time, but Steve didn't care. He'd rather have Tony mad at him and safe than killed in a fiery car wreck. Once Steve was buckled in, the driver glanced at them through the rearview mirror and asked where they wanted to go. Tony was quick with his reply.

"Do you know where Jones Beach is?"

"No." Tony frowned.

"How do you not know where that is?"

"Isn't that on Long Island?" Steve asked.

"Like Long Island, Virginia or Long Island, Maryland?"

"No," Tony scoffed. "Of course not. Long Island, New York." The driver's eyes went wide.

"Oh, hell no," he said. "I'm not driving seven-hundred miles to fucking New York. No way, no how. You couldn't pay me enough."

"Technically it's two-hundred miles," Tony said as if that solved the problem.

"Don't listen to him. Just take us back to the hotel." Before Tony could voice his objection, Steve hit the button to put up the privacy shade. Tony tried to hit it again to bring it back down, but Steve stopped him and pushed his hands away.

"What the hell?" he said. "Why are you being so mean?"

"Tony, I'm not being mean," Steve said. "You're drunk."

"And you're sexy." Ordinarily, that would get a reaction out of Steve, but this time he just stared at his boyfriend. "What? I thought we were stating the obvious."

"This isn't funny, Tony," Steve said. "You're absolutely out-of-your-mind drunk. You could have really hurt yourself."

"I didn't."

"Not the point." Steve made sure Tony was looking him directly in the eyes before continuing. "Listen to me. This is dangerous. You're going to hurt yourself or someone else and I know you don't want that." Tony looked down and away.

"Well, myself I wouldn't mind…"

"You don't mean that." Tony didn't respond. "What's wrong? Talk to me."

"Nothing."

"No," Steve said. "Something is very wrong. It's been wrong since the Chitauri attack and you won't tell me what it is."

"There's nothing to tell," Tony said. "I'm fine."

"You've been saying that for months and it's obviously not true," Steve said.

"Why do you care?" Steve's expression became one of shock.

"I'm your boyfriend," he said. "Of course, I care." Tony frowned and looked unconvinced. "Just tell me what it is. Is it the nightmares? Is that what spurred on all of this on?"

"That's none of your business," Tony snapped.

"Uh, yeah," Steve said. "I think it is. Again, I'm your **boyfriend**. I want to know if something's wrong with you so I can at least try to help you through it."

"**I'm fine**." Tony's tone was much firmer than the previous times he had said it, but Steve still didn't buy it.

"No, you're not," Steve said for what felt like the billionth time. "People don't get this drunk unless something's wrong."

"Maybe they did back in the '40s," Tony said. "But nowadays we have something called 'having a good time.'"

"That's certainly not what I'd call a 'good time.'" Steve said. "Lara was crying when I left!"

"She'll get over it," Tony dismissed.

"Natasha was angry when she came back to the table."

"Romanoff hates me anyway."

"Can't you see all you're going is hurting yourself and everyone around you?" Tony turned to look at him with fury in his eyes.

"Can't you see that I'm not hurting myself," Tony said. "I'm making myself better?"

"Drinking…"

"Shut up!" Tony cut him off. "I don't want to talk anymore!" With that, he turned his back on Steve and directed his gaze out the window.

Steve sighed. Again, he had to realize that he was talking to a brick wall. As much as he wanted to help Tony, he couldn't do it while he was this drunk. He'd try this again in the morning. For right now, all he could do was get Tony back to the hotel.

* * *

By the time they got back to the hotel, Tony's mood had not improved. He stormed ahead of Steve after he got out of the car and wouldn't allow him to help him to their room. He only stopped at the door to their room because he forgot he needed the keycard to get in and tried to force the door. Steve stepped in and unlocked it before he could break anything.

Once in the room, Steve was careful to shut the door quietly to avoid waking anyone on the floor below them. Conversely, he could hear Tony behind him in the kitchen loudly opening and slamming cabinets and drawers, rendering the point mute. Steve took a deep, calming breath.

_Just get him to bed, _he thought. _Just get him to bed and this will all be over._ With that in mind, he turned back around to face Tony. He was going through a pantry but didn't need to look up to know Steve was watching him.

"Where's all the booze?" He questioned aloud. "Seriously, what kind of five-star luxury hotel doesn't offer their guests a little something-something as thanks for their kind patronage. Even grocery store-branded wine would suffice."

"There isn't any, Tony," Steve said. "I poured it all out yesterday while you were asleep." He didn't flinch at Tony's hard glare.

"If I was speaking to you, I'd tell you to go fuck yourself."

"That was speaking to me."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Not tonight," Steve said. "Maybe some other time. Come on, let's get you to bed."

"No way," Tony said. "I went back to the hotel as you and Lara wanted me to! Now that there's no risk of damaging someone's public reputation, I should be allowed to do whatever the hell I want!"

"Tony, quiet down," Steve said. "We're in a hotel."

"**I don't give a fuck!**" Tony made a point of shouting as loud as he could. "I don't give a fuck anymore! You wanna know what the fuck my problem is?"

"Tony…"

"Don't 'Tony' me! First, you press me in the car and now you don't want to know? No! You don't get to do that! Now shut up and listen!"

Steve didn't have time to acknowledge Tony's words before he started up again. For what it was worth, he didn't try to interrupt him. He just did as he was told.

"You want to know why I drink?" Tony said. "I drink because it makes me better! I don't have nightmares or flashbacks when I'm drunk! People like me better when I'm drunk! Hell, Howard liked me better when I was drunk! I mean, he didn't like me crashing Porsches and hacking into the Pentagon, but he didn't discourage it either! Now before you say 'Howard would never do that! That's not the man I knew," let me give you a little reality check, Cap! He gave me my first drink when I was nine years old! Nine years old, and this wasn't a little sip of wine for religious purposes like my mom did! No, this was bourbon; the best fine-malt money could buy and an entire glass of it! Do you know what he said to me? He said it would 'put hair on my chest; make me a man,' and you know what, he was right! It did make me a man! It made me not care about what he or anyone else thought! It made me not care about anything! I was more fun! People liked me! Now after Afghanistan, I've found a new purpose for it; it keeps the nightmares away! If I have a bad dream, all it takes is a glass or two of any alcohol and I'm out like a light! It's like a fucking miracle cure made just for me! Feeling stressed? Take a shot! Are reporters prying into your personal life? Take a shot! Torture-related anxiety? Take a shot! Has it finally hit you that no one values you for anything but a paycheck or being the bearer of free tech? Take a shot! Can't look your boyfriend in the eyes because you know in your heart that you're unworthy to be in his presence, never mind receive all the adoration he gives you day in and day out" Take! A! Shot! I'm not this drunk because I want to be! I'm this drunk because I need to be! Otherwise, I'd probably do what I should have done years ago and just fucking off myself!"

Tony panted hard from all the screaming. Steve just stared. It was easy to see that he wasn't expecting all of that. He blinked, trying to get a grasp on everything. Tony, meanwhile, recovered and walked right past him.

"I'm sleeping in the bathtub." Steve snapped out of it.

"What? Tony, no!" Too late. Tony had already shut the door and locked it. Steve quickly went over and knocked on the door. "Tony? Tony?"

Tony – predictably – gave no response. Steve sighed.

"You know you can't stay in there all night."

Still no response. Steve pressed his back against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor.

"Just come out when you're ready to talk. I'll be waiting." Steve tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. All he could do was wonder what in God's name was he supposed to do next.

* * *

**Monday, January 23rd, 2012**

Tony woke up with his head aching and something cold tapping against his cheek. Realizing it was water, he bolted upright and immediately smashed his head into a faucet. He let out a curse and rubbed the injured spot carefully. When he tried to get up again, he took things slow and managed to avoid the faucet.

Looking around, Tony didn't immediately recognize where he was. He recognized that it was a bathroom, but that was about it. He could see his jacket, socks, and shoes on the floor, but couldn't see anything else of note.

…Except for the bottle of mouthwash on the counter next to the sink.

_Jackpot!_ Tony could vaguely remember someone saying that they poured out all the alcohol, but they probably didn't think to even touch the mouthwash. Tony smirked and got out of the tub.

Unscrewing the cap, Tony started to chug it all down at once. He knew it wasn't a good idea to drink mouthwash, but he could feel himself starting to sober up and he couldn't lose that buzz. It wasn't until he had finished the bottle that he saw the two most accursed words on the planet written on it: Alcohol-free.

Slamming the bottle on the ground, Tony threw his head into his hands. He needed booze now. It couldn't wait. Knowing that the only way he was going to get any was by leaving, Tony stood up and flipped the bathroom light off.

Slowly opening the door and peering out, Tony spotted Steve asleep on the floor next to the door. Not wanting to wake up the sleeping Super Soldier, Tony tried his best to keep the door from creaking as he slid out and gently padded over to the front door. As far as he could tell, Steve didn't stir at all before he left.

* * *

**Thank you to doctorherondalestark and the guest for leaving kudos on AO3! It really means a lot! :)**

**Please don't kill me! I still haven't seen the new _Spider-Man_ movie yet! You can't kill me before I get the chance to cry about Tony being dead for two hours! *Sigh* I really need to stop torturing characters like this...**

**Remember kids, if you go to Jones Beach on Long Island, NY, just keep an eye out for anything suspicious. I don't know for certain if any crimes specifically happened there, but you know... If you see a random burlap sack just lying around, don't touch it. Call the police right away. It could be nothing, it could be a dead body. It's best to err on the side of caution and call the police. This has been a PSA.**

* * *

**Originally uploaded to FFN on 7/11/19.**


	10. Living My Life in Bottles

**I have seen _Spider-Man: Far From Home_! I no longer need to be protected from spoilers!**

* * *

**Monday, January 23rd, 2012**

The elevator doors opened with a high-pitched ding that in Tony's opinion was way too loud. He could already feel the shockwaves traveling through his brain, agitating his fledgling headache beyond compare. It was so bad that it made his stomach roll a bit, something that hadn't happened since the aplastic anemia incident. That really put into perspective how sick he was going to be if he didn't curb the hangover ASAP.

Stepping inside, Tony reviewed the buttons on the control panel carefully. For the life of him, he couldn't remember which button led to the lobby. Was it the big "L" or the star? No, it had to be the one with the little man running away from the fire on it. Tony pressed that button and was met with disappointment. The elevator doors – which had started to close – suddenly slid back open and a loud buzzing noise emitted from the speaker above him. He clasped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. If he thought the ding was bad…

Tony scrambled out of the elevator and was relieved to find that the alarm seemed to be contained to that space. Without much thought, he headed for the staircase. After all, booze was more important than accountability, right? Obviously not, but Tony was too far out of it to realize that. He headed down the stairs, though in all honesty, he felt that he was going at far too slow a pace. However, it's not like he had a choice. It was his own incoordination that was throwing him off. He only had himself to blame for that.

Tony had gotten about five floors down before he encountered anyone else on the stairs. It was a young couple – a man and a woman – and judging by their demeanor, they seemed to be a little inebriated as well. As Tony passed them, he heard the woman giggle.

"Shit," she said. "That party was the bomb!"

"No one says that anymore," the man pointed out.

"Shut up," she laughed. "But still, I haven't been to a rager like that in a long time. I'm glad your mom could take Luke."

"Yeah," the man said. "Just remember not to say anything about the party. She was already pretty upset about us going to the concert."

"Oh, blah, blah," the woman said. "We're young. We're allowed to have a little fun. I wish we could have stayed longer."

"I didn't like the looks of things," the man said. "People were starting to get crazy and all the booze wasn't helping. I saw them crack open three kegs while we were in there and I swear to God there were five more in back." Tony stopped in his tracks the moment he heard the word "booze." He turned and rushed to follow them up to the stairs.

"Excuse me," he said when he caught up. "Which floor did you just come from?"

* * *

Lights were flashing. Music was blasting. Someone was laughing. Tony smiled as he felt someone's head hit his shoulder. Gently, he pushed them away, murmuring that he had a boyfriend.

Tony had no idea what was going on anymore. The room was flashing and spinning in ways he would have never thought imaginable. It took a few drinks, but he built his buzz back up. Now he had no idea what number drink he was on and honestly, he didn't care. He felt good and that's all that mattered. Well, until that stranger got back up and wrapped their arms around him.

"Come on," they said. "I just want to hug you."

"You can't," Tony said as he tried to pry them off him. "I just said I have a boyfriend."

"It's just a hug," they insisted. "When am I ever gonna get a chance to hug a guy who looks like Iron Man again?"

"Tomorrow?" They laughed.

"Yeah, right." They paused for a second and inhaled deeply. "You smell like hobo pee."

"Thanks," Tony said. "Seriously, though, let go."

All he got in response was light snoring. Tony tried to push them off him, but their arms were locked around his neck. Tony groaned and slumped over on the couch, dragging the other body with him. Slowly, his eyes slid shut. Sleep didn't seem like such a bad idea. Besides, whoever was on top of him was warm… Maybe he could drift off for just a few moments right here on this couch…

Then, mere seconds later (or it felt like seconds to Tony. He may have blacked out.) A door slammed open and people started screaming. He heard a distinctive shout of "Metro Police! Put your hands up!" Tony tried to comply but found he couldn't. He was completely unable to move. He couldn't even open his eyes until he felt a hand roughly grab him and drag him to his feet. Very unsteady, Tony moved in the direction the cop was pushing him in.

When he got out to the hallway, the cop let Tony go and he was able to infer from the stream of people exiting the room that the party was being broken up. Although a little disappointed that he couldn't keep his buzz going, he figured he should probably get to bed anyway. It was going to be dawn in… Who knows how long? He wasn't sure. He just knew something was going on in the morning.

Getting in the elevator (which had apparently been fixed) Tony tried to reach around five other people to hit the button for his floor. A police officer smacked the back of his hand painfully.

"Oh no, buddy," the officer said. "You're not going anywhere but out."

"What?" Tony struggled to find the right person to make eye contact with. "You can't? I think I live here or something?"

"Sure, you do," the officer dismissed. Tony frowned and reached out to press the button again. To stop him, the officer grabbed his wrist. "Don't make me restrain you."

Tony pulled his hand back and rubbed at his wrist. He did his best to look offended, but his inebriated state didn't give him much help. The cop just laughed him off. Rolling his eyes, Tony leaned over onto the side wall. If the cops were going to be like that, fine. That was their problem. He'd just take the elevator down to the lobby and take the stairs back up. No big deal.

That was until he tried to do it. As soon as he tried to break away from the crowd, the cops were on him and tried to herd him out the door with the others. When he refused two of the cops grabbed him under the arms, lifted him, and carried him out. Tony kicked and screamed, doing anything he could to break their grip on him. However, it was useless. The cops deposited him outside the hotel doors and ordered him to stay out. Predictably, Tony turned and tried to rush back in, but was pushed back by both the cops and the crowd. He tried to tell them that he really was staying there, but in the end, it didn't matter. The hotel wanted everyone involved with the party out, so he was getting kicked out. End of story.

Eventually, Tony had to give up screaming and finally just accepted his fate. This was a battle he wasn't going to win. With one last extremely slurred "fuck you" to both the cops and the hotel owners, Tony started stumbling down the sidewalk. He wasn't sure where he was going, he just hoped they had booze there. …And, dry socks.

* * *

Two blocks later, Tony found himself standing in front of a 7-Eleven and smiling. Certainly, they'd have booze in there. Pushing the door open, he felt like he entered the Taj Mahal. In the back, he spotted a sign labeled beverages and started sprinting for it. In his rush to get there, he fell twice. Both times he was seemingly unaffected and got back on his feet quickly.

Smiling like a kid in a candy store, Tony started taking cases of whatever alcohol was in the fridge and started stacking them into a tower on the floor. Pushing the tower forward and careful not to send it all crashing down, Tony inched it over to the cash register. It was a slow process, but he managed to do it. Although, before he let the cashier start ringing up his purchases, Tony ran back and got two more bottles and a bag of M+Ms. What? He was hungry. The cashier raised an eyebrow.

"I can pay for it," Tony was quick to assure. The cashier – a boy who looked no older than fourteen – shook his head.

"It's not that," he said. "I don't think I'm legally allowed to **sell** that much alcohol."

"I won't tell if you don't," Tony said. The cashier still looked hesitant, but nonetheless started ringing up his items. In the end, it came to eight assorted cases of beer and boxes of wine along with the two bottles and the candy. The cashier hit a few buttons on the register.

"Your total is $217.46." Tony raised his eyebrows in surprise. That was way cheaper than he was expecting. He reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet…

He reached into his jacket pocket…

His jacket…

Tony's eyes went wide and his face paled. He wasn't wearing his jacket. Sweat started forming on his brow and he kept patting his abdomen as if doing so would magically summon his jacket. That didn't happen and real panic started creeping up in Tony's chest. He left his wallet in his jacket pocket along with his cellphone and his key to the hotel room. He tried to remember when he took it off but couldn't. If he left it at that party…

The sound of the cashier clearing his throat reminded Tony that he had more immediate concerns. Looking from the tower of alcohol to the young man waiting to be paid, Tony bit his lip.

"I don't suppose you have a superhero discount?" The cashier shook his head. "Didn't think so."

With that, Tony turned and uncomfortably walked out the door, leaving behind everything he just tried to buy.

* * *

The sun was starting to rise. Tony sat on a curb with his head in his hands, staring at his bare feet. He was contemplating his options. He had walked quite a distance from the convenience store, so much so that he had no idea where he was or how to get back to the hotel. The most cash he had on him was a dollar in quarters that had somehow accumulated in his pants pocket and he ended up losing all of it to a payphone that's handset cord had been severed. Tony tried to repair it, but he found that the wires had no electrical charge running through them at all, rendering the phone completely useless. So, in every sense of the word he was lost. There was no better way to sum it up.

Tony wanted to smash his head through the nearest windshield. How had he gotten here? What on Earth did he do wrong? For the life of him, he couldn't figure it out. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to throw something and watch it smash into a million pieces. Most of all, he wanted Steve. God, why did he run away from Steve?

_Because Steve hates you._ Tony's stomach twisted and tears started dripping from his eyes. As much as he hated it, he knew that it had to be true. Steve wouldn't scream at him like that if he loved him. Tony would be a fool to think otherwise. Maybe he'd been fooling himself all along, thinking him and Steve could work…

Then there was everyone else. Lara and Romanoff certainly had it out for him… After all the crap he'd pulled in the last twelve hours, there was no way they'd still let him be an Avenger… That was it. He had nothing. He was nothing but a sad, lonely drunk. If he had a drink, he'd indulge in the irony and toss it all back in one go, but he couldn't, and he knew he shouldn't. For the first time in months, his need for comfort was outweighing his need for alcohol. He'd give anything to both holds and be held by Steve. He just wished he hadn't run away before he reached that point.

Tony curled his toes and straightened them again. The cold slush that lined the street made them feel like they were on fire. It was starting to occur to him that it was probably dangerous to be out there. He didn't know what the air temperature was, but he could safely assume that it was somewhere near freezing with a windchill that was making it ten times worse. The smart idea would be to get inside and warm himself up ASAP, but he had nowhere to go. He had no idea where the hotel was and no way to get back to it otherwise as he had no cash. Plus, the area he wound up it appeared to be largely residential. There were no businesses or public buildings to speak of and it wasn't like Tony could go knocking on people's doors, begging to be let inside. As far as they knew, he was just some drunk homeless guy and if he tried to tell them that he was Tony Stark, they'd probably assume him to be crazy, too. That sounded like a sure-fire way to get sent to the funny farm where life is beautiful all the time and he'll be happy to see those nice young men in their clean white coats 'cause they're coming to take him away, ha-ha!

Tony frowned and wondered for a moment if hearing Napoleon XIV in your head was a sign of hypothermia.

_Probably._ Tony groaned.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts to notice the car pulling up. However, when he heard the car window rolling down, he had a "fuck off" ready on his lips within seconds.

"Tony Stark?" The shock in the man's voice was enough to make Tony look up. He saw a Latino man leaning out the rear passenger window. "Oh my God, it is you."

Tony's brow furrowed. He vaguely recognized the man but couldn't put a name to the face. Regardless, the man got out of the car and knelt in front of him.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he scanned Tony up and down, assessing his condition. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Well, obviously he knew he was drunk and left the hotel, but everything before, after, and in between was a fuzzy mystery to him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Congressman Salinas," the man said. "Eduardo Salinas. We met last night?" Tony had to think about it for a minute before a bell finally rung.

_Right. Eduardo Salinas. Freeman introduced us._

"Oh," he said as he began to rub his forehead. "Sorry, I…"

"No need to apologize." Salinas held up one hand in an assuring manner. "Where are the other Avengers?" Tony gave the Congressman a strange look.

"They're at the hotel," he said. "Where else would they be?" Salinas looked confused.

"Isn't there some sort of emergency?" he asked. "I mean, you're out here with no shoes or jacket…"

"Nope," Tony said, popping the "p." "No emergency. I'm just a stupid drunk." Salinas made a disgusted face. Clearly, the scent of alcohol had caught up with him.

"Oh my," he said. "How did you get here?"

"Walked." Salinas looked at his car and then back at Tony.

"You know, my house is just down the street. Why don't we head back there and get you warmed up?" Tony eyed him skeptically. All those warnings his mother gave him as a child about not getting into cars with strangers flashed through his mind.

"I don't know," he said. "You're nice enough to offer, but I don't think that's really a good idea." Salinas frowned.

"Mr. Stark, it's freezing out. Even if the sun is coming up, you're not going to last much longer in this cold." Tony was still hesitant. "When we get there, I'll call Duane. We'll get you back to the hotel and sorted out, okay?" Tony kept his skeptical gaze on Salinas for a moment longer before nodding.

"Alright," he said. "But tell Freeman to bring Steve." Salinas smiled and nodded.

"You have my word."

Salinas helped Tony up and led him over to the car. Tony did not appreciate the assistance but decided that he had no choice but to accept it. He was too tired and uncoordinated to put up a fight now, anyways. Sitting down in the back seat, Tony relished in the feeling of the warm air of the heater washing over him. Salinas sat down next to him.

"Take us back to the house," he ordered the driver. "It looks like I'm going to be taking the morning off."

* * *

Salinas' house was a lot smaller than Tony expected it to be. From the outside, it looked only to be a one-bedroom ranch; a very nice one-bedroom ranch, but a one-bedroom ranch, nonetheless. Most politicians tended to buy houses that were much more grandiose than that. However, from what Tony could see, what it lacked in size it more than made up for in yard space. He could see the tops of multiple greenhouses in the back yard and the front yard was sectioned off as if it were garden or a field. It looked rather nice, too, even though it was all covered in snow.

When the driver brought the car to a stop in the driveway, Salinas immediately got out and offered Tony a hand. Tony tried to reject it, but the man was insistent. Begrudgingly, Tony let Salinas help him out of the car and lead him into the house through the side door.

They went through the kitchen, down a hallway, and into the living room – all of which were clean and nicely furnished. Salinas slowly set Tony down on the couch. Tony didn't allow himself to get comfortable until Salinas let him go. When he did, Tony practically became one with the couch. It was **that** comfortable.

"Emily," Salinas called. "Are you awake yet?"

"Yes!" Tony had a sense of déjà vu wash over him, but he couldn't figure out why. He shrugged it off. It was probably just the alcohol.

"Would you mind fetching me a glass of water?"

"Sure thing!" Salinas turned back to Tony.

"The maid," he explained. "She's the only other person here. I'm going to get some blankets to help start warming you up. Do you need anything?" Tony shook his head.

"I'm good, thanks." Salinas nodded before taking off down the hall again. Tony turned his gaze to the ceiling.

For a moment, he pondered the idea of going to sleep. However, a little voice in the back of his head reminded him that falling asleep when you might have hypothermia wasn't a good idea. Something about dying in your sleep…? He wasn't sure, but it was enough for him to force himself to keep his eyes from drooping shut. A few moments later, Salinas reappeared. He had two blankets draped over his arm (one of which was the same shade of blue as Steve's uniform, which made the corners of Tony's lips rise a little bit), a pair of slippers and a pair of socks in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Salinas put the water down on the coffee table and handed him the blankets.

"Thank you." Tony spread the blankets over himself, snuggling the blue blanket particularly close.

"You're welcome," Salinas sat down next to him. "Can I see your feet?" Tony narrowed his eyes.

"Why?" Salinas held up the socks and slippers.

"I want to get these on your feet," he said. "It'll help warm you up."

"I'm perfectly capable of putting socks and shoes on," Tony assured.

"Of course, you are," Salinas agreed. "I just don't want you to strain yourself. In fact, lay back. You'll be more comfortable that way.

Tony hesitated a moment. Something about this just didn't feel right. As a means of stalling, he picked up the glass of water and took a sip. There was something wrong with the texture of the liquid, but the water tasted fine. He just assumed that it was something screwy with the tap and drank about a fourth of the glass down before glancing over at Salinas. The man was looking at him expectantly. Sighing, Tony set the glass back down on the table and laid back on the couch. It wasn't like he had much of a choice.

Salinas lifted Tony's right foot and started to slip one of the socks on it. Despite how sleepy he was, Tony kept a close eye on him. Call him paranoid, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Salinas, however, seemed oblivious to Tony's suspicion.

"So," Salinas said. "Would you mind telling me why you were walking around my neighborhood drunk at this early hour without any shoes?"

"Yes." Salinas didn't flinch at the harshness of his tone.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I've been told I'm a good listener."

"It's none of your business." Tony almost pulled his foot back when he felt Salinas' hand squeeze it. Salinas felt him jump a bit and graciously stopped what he was doing and instead slipped the slipper onto his foot.

"Alright," he said. "But can I ask you one thing?"

"What?" Tony said without thinking.

"I can't help but wonder if your emotional state stems from a lack of fulfillment. Tell me, Mr. Stark, do you feel satisfied with where you are in life?"

Tony didn't answer, but it wasn't out of spite. He genuinely didn't know how to answer that question. He knew what he should say, and he knew what the reality was. He should say "of course I feel fulfilled. I'm the owner of a Fortune 500 company. I have more money than most people could ever dream of having; expensive homes, exotic cars, and I'm dating Captain America. To put the icing on the cake, I am Iron Man. Of course, I'm happy with my life." However, the reality of all of that was vastly different. He wouldn't be there if that wasn't the case and he had a feeling Salinas already knew that. So, he remained silent, figuring that no answer was the best answer. Salinas would take it however he would. Salinas dropped his right foot and started pulling the other sock over his left.

"You know," he said. "It's not an uncommon feeling. A lot of people are depressed and have no idea where to go. They need structure in their lives; a strong community of people to back them up. Do you have anything like that, Mr. Stark?"

_No._ Again, Tony went the silent route. It was clearly the best option of the three.

"If you're in need of that, I know a group that can help." Again, Salinas began squeezing Tony's foot in an uncomfortable manner. It was like he was trying to give him a foot massage. Tony didn't like it. He tried to pull his foot away, but Salinas wouldn't let him. "I was lost once, but they helped me find the way. They're all about faith and helping the community. I think you'd like them. They're called the Peoples Unity Church. Does that sound interesting to you?" Tony remained deathly silent and just stared at Salinas.

_Really? Fucking now? You're going to throw your religion at me right now? Go screw yourself._ Salinas shrugged as he picked up the last slipper.

"It's just something to think about," he said. "We can discuss this more when you're in a better state of mind. We'd be lucky to have you though, Tony. We could use someone like you."

Salinas then relinquished Tony's foot and Tony bolted upright. As he did so, Salinas came over and put one hand on his shoulder, leaning over him with his entire body and forcing him back down. Tony swallowed hard.

"What are you doing?" Salinas asked. "Lie back down. Relax. You need to rest."

"I just wanted a drink of water." The frightening expression on Salinas' face and faded away and he nodded.

Once he backed away, Tony sat up and reached for the glass. He prolonged his drink as much as possible to avoid having to speak or lie back down. Again, he noticed the odd texture of the water but didn't question it. He drank almost all the glass before pulling it away from his lips.

"Are you okay?" Tony nodded.

"Fine," was his clipped response. A hand came down on Tony's shoulder, patting it reassuringly.

"I'm going to call Duane," Salinas said. "Why don't you lie back down and relax? Don't worry, I'll tell him to bring Steve." Tony gave him a hard-sidelong glare. Salinas acted like he didn't see it as he walked into the next room, shutting the door behind him.

With Salinas gone, Tony squeezed his eyes shut and fell back against the couch. He didn't allow himself to relax completely, though. He still didn't want to fall asleep. God only knew what Salinas' intentions were.

Tony heard a pair of feet approaching him. Assuming it to be Salinas, Tony brought the glass back up to his lips, pouring the rest of the water into his mouth and swallowing it in a few gulps.

"Is there anything…" Tony looked up as the woman's voice trailed off. "Oh my God…"

Tony recognized her but wasn't sure how. The long dark hair and green eyes rang a bell, but the look of shock was completely out of place. Her name tag read Emily, but somehow Tony had a feeling that wasn't her name.

_Agent._ Tony looked her up and down, trying to remember if she was S.H.I.E.L.D. or something. The woman, meanwhile, finally found her voice.

"Please tell me that wasn't the water I just made."

"Uh," he said. "I don't…"

"Just tell me yes or no. Was there water in that glass?"

"Yes." The woman inhaled deeply and brought a hand up to run through her hair. Tony looked at her, confused. "Do I know you?"

"No," she said. "And you're probably not going to."

"And how do you know that?" Tony asked. The woman's face was tense as she looked him directly in the eyes.

"Because the water you just drank was poisoned. You'll be dead in fifteen minutes."

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**Thank you to BlueBoulder for the review, favorite, and follow on FFN, and QueenE for leaving a comment on AO3, and shekelash and the guest who left kudos on AO3! It really means a lot! **

**Again, I feel like I have to beg you, people, not to kill me. Come on, it wouldn't be a story if nothing bad happened! Although, the bad stuff does seem to disproportionally happen to Tony... I need to fix that.**

**Remember kids, torture is only okay if you do it to fictional characters. **

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**Originally uploaded to FFN on 7/18/19.**


	11. Ironslayer

**Ehehe... If you don't already want to kill me, you're going to want to by the time you get to the endnote.**

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**Monday, January 23rd, 2012**

Jessica put the finishing touches on her makeup and pulled back her hair. Technically, she wasn't supposed to be wearing any, but she found that if she only kept it to a small amount in her natural shades, she usually could get away with it. The uniform was simple; a white polo shirt, khaki pants, and sturdy sneakers. Cheep enough for even the poorest members of the congregation to afford. Women could leave their hair straight down, pulled back with a black or white hairband, or up in a ponytail. No pigtails, buns, or braids. Black members could still have dreadlocks, but Jess had the sinking suspicion that if a white member tried to pull off that hairstyle, they'd have their entire head shaved.

She had been implanted into the Peoples Unity Church for a few months now. Both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra had their reasons for putting her there. S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted her to monitor a potential threat. Hydra wanted her to take it out. The latter was made very clear with the text her Hydra handler sent her the night before.

At the first opportunity end him.

That's what the code came out to. Jessica had no choice but to say yes. This was one of the cases where the choice was obeying Hydra or die. Besides, she didn't think Fury would mind having one piranha taken out of the tank either.

After taking the personality test and going through orientation, Jessica had been assigned to work in Congressman Eduardo Salinas' D.C. home as his live-in maid. The job wasn't as terrible as she imagined it. Salinas seemed to keep his hands to himself and she managed to gather valuable intel on the group for both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra, but for whatever reason, Hydra didn't think he was worth keeping around anymore. So, she would do as she was told. She had a cover to keep intact, after all.

The Congressman had a solid schedule. He left in the early hours of the morning without any breakfast, preferring to stop at a café in the city to eat. He'd be home sometime late into the night to review the work that was done in the gardens and dismiss the church members assigned to work in them before heading straight to bed. That left Jessica only a small window of opportunity to work with. She supposed she could suffocate him in his sleep, but there would be too much circumstantial evidence pointing to her. Luckily, Hydra had a better idea.

The text message had been proceeded by a package delivery. She found it waiting on her cot when she went to bed that night. Inside of the package was a vial and a card informing her that it was the venom of a Kingslayer Jellyfish, synthesized to be able to be metabolized in the human body through ingestion. Jessica researched the species that night on her phone. A quick Google search revealed that the Kingslayer was a type of Irukandji Jellyfish and was thought to be one of the most venomous in the world. If stung, the victim would rapidly develop the symptoms of Irukandji Syndrome and in some cases could die in as few as fifteen minutes. Although it would appear odd for a United States Congressman who had never been to Queensland, Australia before (where the jellyfish were commonly found) to suddenly come down with and die from Irukandji Syndrome, it was actually a pretty good cover. Doctors and medical examiners would have no reason to suspect it and as such would be unable to come up with a diagnosis or a cause of death. It would seem like he just suddenly got sick and died. It was a good idea, but Jess was somewhat skeptical of the practicality of it.

Her problem was that she had no idea how potent the stuff was. She didn't have any doubts that it would work – Hydra would never give her a weapon that wasn't effective – but she was worried about the danger it presented to herself. Although she had accelerated healing, Jessica knew her powers made her a bit more susceptible to the side effects of certain substances. She fell into a poison ivy patch once and ended up with a vicious rash on her arm, cheek, and the side of her neck that took weeks to clear up. She was worried that if there was any trace of it on the vial or if she spilled some and got it on her skin, she would get poisoned, too. It wouldn't be enough to kill her – she could thank her accelerated healing for that – but it would probably be enough to make her sick for an extended period. Jess didn't like the idea, but this is what Hydra wanted her to do and how they wanted her to go about doing it. She'd just have to take it upon herself to be careful.

Having gotten ready, Jessica headed up the basement stairs to get to work. Salinas was sure to be gone by now and there would be another twenty to thirty minutes until the workers showed up. She would have the house to herself, but unfortunately, in order to keep her cover, she would have to spend it mopping the floors and scrubbing the counters. Otherwise, she would have spent the time getting into some _Risky Business_. Jess smiled at the thought as she reached the top of the stairs and pushed the door open.

"Emily! Are you awake yet?" Hearing Salinas shout the alias she had given him had taken Jessica by surprise. He wasn't supposed to be there. Nonetheless, Jessica responded as she was supposed to.

"Yes!"

"Would you mind fetching me some water?"

"Sure thing!"

Quickly and quietly, Jessica padded back down the stairs. She had left the package on the fourth step from the bottom in case the opportunity arose and apparently it had. For her own safety, Jess knew she should wear gloves while handling the vial, but it would look odd to prepare a glass of water wearing gloves and it could make Salinas realize something was off. Plus, she knew she didn't have any time to look for gloves, so she would just have to take the risk.

The entrance to the basement was just off to the side of the kitchen, so Jessica didn't have to go far. She got a glass out of the cabinet and started filling it with tap water. Satisfied with the amount, she took the lid off the vial and dumped its entire contents into the glass. For a second, she thought she heard Salinas' footsteps approaching her and the momentary panic caused her to drop the vial. It shattered into a million pieces at the bottom of the sink.

Luckily, Salinas hadn't been coming and the vial was made of thin glass, so it hadn't made a loud sound. Checking to make sure none of the shattered glass landed in the water, Jessica picked it up and gave it a quick stir with a spoon before heading out of the kitchen. Salinas met her at the threshold.

"Hi," she said, a little surprised at his sudden appearance. "Here's your water."

"Thank you," he said as he took the glass from her.

"I added that new Vita-Water stuff to it," she said. "So, if it tastes funny…"

"Actually, that works out great," Salinas said. "That will be all for now." Jessica nodded and turned to go back to the kitchen. She heard Salinas head down the hall.

Jessica headed to the sink. She looked down at the shattered glass, wondering how she could clean it up without touching it. Outstretching her hand, she held it over one of the larger pieces of glass and began to feel the energy build up. With a bright flash of yellow light, the energy ejected from her palm and hit the piece of glass, crunching it into smaller pieces. She repeated the process until she felt she had broken down the larger pieces to be small enough. Then, she took the sprayer and sprayed the glass into the drain. That probably wasn't good for the plumbing, but it solved a problem.

Once she was sure all the glass was gone, Jessica set about her cleaning tasks for the day. She usually started off with a bit of light dusting around the house to allow herself a little more time to wake up. She'd dust the dining room, office, and living room in that order and was usually quick about it.

It was about ten to fifteen minutes later when she finally got to the living room. Stepping into the room, she knew immediately that she wasn't alone. Someone was sitting slumped over on the couch. Figuring it was Salinas and want to check his progress, she approached him.

"Is there anything…" She stopped speaking as soon as she realized that it wasn't Salinas sitting on the couch and although seeing Tony Stark there was a surprise, the real shock came when she saw the glass of water in his hand. "Oh my god…"

With that, Jessica fell silent. Her hand went to her heart and her jaw went slack. The words _I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up,_ kept flashing through her mind. She was an idiot. She shouldn't have assumed that Salinas was alone. Even if he hadn't brought over guests in the entire time she had been there, she should have taken more steps to ensure that Salinas would be the one drinking the water. She was so worried about keeping all her covers that she became careless. She wanted to slam her own head against the wall.

Stark, meanwhile, was looking at her with narrowed eyes, as if he were trying to figure something out. Jessica realized that he probably recognized her. Two years prior, she had posed as a Homeland Security Agent in order to investigate a robbery at Stark Industries for Hydra. It had been the final mission she had to complete in order to get her powers back. She didn't interact much with the man himself – just one informal meeting in a hallway – but apparently, she must have somehow left an impression as the gears were slowly clicking behind his eyes.

Slowly, Jessica could feel the shock wear off and she regained the ability to speak.

"Please tell me that wasn't the water I just made." Confused, Stark looked at the glass and back at her.

"Uh," he said. "I don't…"

"Just tell me yes or no. Was there water in that glass?"

"Yes." With a sharp intake of breath, Jessica brought her hand up to her hair. This was not good. "Do I know you?" Jess let out a stressed laugh.

"No," she said. "And you're probably not going to."

"How do you know that?" Jessica's expression sobered. She looked Stark dead in the eyes.

"Because the water you drank was poisoned. You'll be dead in fifteen minutes."

Stark just stared at her, his eyes completely uncomprehending. For a moment, Jessica thought the effects of the poison might be setting in. Then he spoke up.

"Asian Duran! That's your name! I knew I knew it!" Jessica frowned. She didn't remember slurred speech as being one of the symptoms of Irukandji Syndrome, but she supposed everyone reacts differently. Biting her lip, she glanced down the hallway, checking if Salinas was there.

"Alright…" She looked back at Stark. "We have to go." To her surprise, he seemed to be relived at the declaration. His body visibly deflated as he let out a breath, he probably didn't know he'd been holding.

"Thank God," he muttered before standing up. "Get me out of here."

Stark stepped forward and almost immediately tripped over his own two feet. Jessica reached out and caught him. For a moment, she thought she smelled something strange but brushed it off. She had bigger concerns now. Slowly, she lifted him and helped him to stand.

"Come on," she said. "I'll help you."

"Just get me out of here." Jessica nodded and led him down the hall.

They made it through the hallway and out of the kitchen without incident. When they passed Salinas' bedroom door, Jessica could have sworn she heard him talking to someone. He was probably on the phone, but how she hadn't noticed that the first time she passed by was beyond her. Regardless, they made it past Salinas alarming him and walked out the side door. Jess thought they might be home free, but once they reached the bottom step, Stark suddenly pushed her away. She almost yelled at him, saw him double over and throw up. Jess squeezed her eyes shut.

_Please don't die,_ she thought. _Please don't let Salinas catch us._

It took only a few moments for Stark to completely empty the contents of his stomach onto the ground and when he was done, he was left raggedly panting. Jessica was hesitant to approach him, unsure if it would be safe to do so. However, Stark quickly got to his feet on his own, which Jess took as a good sign. She quickly moved to help support him.

"Are you okay?" Stark nodded.

"Fine," he said. "Where are we going?" Jessica bit her lip. She had to think about that.

"Away," she finally settled on. It had struck her that she had nowhere to take him. They obviously couldn't go to the hospital. Hydra was out of the question. Fury and Hill were the only ones who knew she even worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., never mind was on this mission… Her only choice would be to call one of them and hope he held on until they showed up. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing. "We'll go to the end of the street. I'll figure out something there."

Stark didn't respond but followed her as she led him around the patch of puke-covered snow and down the driveway. They made it to the curb before Stark pushed her out of the way again. He heaved, but it wasn't as violent this time. Stark spat out the last chunks of bile stuck in his mouth and wiped his face on the sleeve of his (very expensive) shirt. When he was done, Jessica helped support him again, thankful that she was standing on the opposite side of the vomit sleeve.

The walk to the end of the street was arduous. It would have only taken a few minutes walking at a normal pace, but having to support an uncoordinated, poisoned man slowed Jessica down considerably. They almost hit a snag when the bus that brought the workers to Salinas' started coming up the road. Luckily, Jess was a fast thinker and Stark had a pair of blankets wrapped around him. She pulled one of the blankets off Stark and wrapped it around herself like a cloak, obscuring her face and the polo top. She told Stark to keep his head down and thankfully she didn't have to say it twice. She guided him as close to the edge of the road as she could without pushing him into a snowbank. The bus slowed down considerably as it passed and for a moment it made Jess worried. However, it seemed that the bus just did that to try to pass them without hitting them. Once it was around them, it didn't stop and continued to its destination. Jess let out a breath of relief.

_On the plus side, the bus will probably erase our footprints._ She readjusted her grip on Stark and continued down the road.

Getting to the end of the street, Jessica set Tony down to lean against the snowbank. Pulling her cell phone out of the hidden pocket in her pants, Jess hit the speed-dial number for Fury.

One ring…

Two rings…

Seven rings…

Voicemail.

"Damn."

_Alright, try Hill._ She hit the other speed-dial number programmed into the phone.

One ring…

Two rings…

Seven rings…

Voicemail.

"Damn it!"

_Try Fury again. Maybe he didn't hear it the first time._ She hit the first number again.

One ring…

Two rings…

Seven rings…

Voicemail.

"God damn it!"

Jessica brought a hand to her hair. This wasn't good. She couldn't reach Fury or Hill and **Iron Man** was literally seconds away from death beside her. She had no idea what to do. Her only option seemed to be "take him to the hospital" but she knew that she would be putting herself and others in danger by doing that. Not to mention, a regular hospital might not be equipped to help him. Jess honestly doubted they saw many Kingslayer Jellyfish poisonings in D.C. Unless, you know, someone tried to take a bath in the jellyfish tank at the National Zoo. That would be a sight to see.

Jessica felt a weight in her hidden pants pocket. She still had a device in there, but she wasn't sure if she should use it. It was only supposed to be for world-ending emergencies. Tony Stark dying constituted a world-ending emergency, right?

_"Only for emergencies."_

_ Oh, screw it!_ Jessica dug into her pants pocket and pulled out the pager. With one press of a button, the screen went from a shade of digital green to red. Then, blue. Then a gold star appeared. Jess started the countdown. _Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three…_

** BOOM!**

The sound of the sound barrier being broken reverberated through the atmosphere. Jessica raised an eyebrow, impressed. Carol must have been closer than she thought. Within seconds, a bright flash of orange-blue light hit the ground, causing the pavement around it to crack up. Quickly, the light faded, and Carol lowered her helmet, letting her blonde hair fall loose.

"Jess!" she called as she broke out into a sprint, coming towards her. "What happened? What's going on?"

"I messed up, Carol," Jessica said. "I messed up bad."

"What did you do?" Carol put her hands on Jessica's shoulders and inspected her face for signs of injury. "Where's Fury?"

"I can't get ahold of him or Hill. That's why I called you." Jessica took a breath. "I poisoned Iron Man." Carol's face went blank.

"Who?" Jessica sighed. She probably should have expected this.

"Tony Stark." Carol's face remained blank. "**The** Tony Stark. Stark Industries? Stark Expo? The Tony Stark gay sex tape?" Carol shook her head. "He threw a nuke into space. You had to have heard about that."

"No," Carol said. "Wait, do I have to chase down a nuke?"

"No, I'm sure that's fine," Jessica said. "I gave him a lethal amount of jellyfish venom by accident. I don't know what to do."

"Take him to the hospital," Carol flatly stated.

"I can't, I'm in deep cover," Jessica explained. "If I take him to the hospital my cover is blown, and Hydra will kill me and anyone I'm with."

"And you can't get ahold of Fury?" Carol asked.

"No," Jessica confirmed. "At the very least, I knew you'd come, and I really just need an adult right now."

"You are an adult," Carol pointed out.

"Not the point," Jessica said. "Look, I need help. Can you help me?" Carol sighed.

"It's not an emergency," she said.

"To you," Jessica said. "But trust me, this man means the difference between life and death for Earth and every creature on it."

"Then why did you poison him?" Carol asked.

"It was an accident," Jessica insisted. "Please, Carol."

"Fine," she said. "Just know there is probably an orphan hospital somewhere in the galaxy that's going to burn to the ground because I wasn't there to save it."

"An orphan hospital?" Jessica raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up," Carol said. "Where is he?"

"Over there…" Jessica's eyes went wide as soon as she turned around. Stark had slumped over and fallen into the snowbank, clearly having fallen unconscious.

_…Or died._

"Shit." Jessica sprinted over to the snowbank as fast as she could. Jabbing her fingers against Stark's neck, she tried to feel for a pulse. "I can't feel a heartbeat!"

"I think you're doing it wrong," Carol said as she came up beside Jessica. She rolled up the sleeve of her flight jacket and started tapping the screen of her wrist display. "Here, let me."

Carol extended out her wrist and a golden light came out of a sensor. The beam scanned Stark up and down twice before the computer beeped, announcing it had enough readings.

"His body temperature is low," she reported. "Brain activity is a little high, but not too far from being normal… Heartbeat is somewhat irregular but he's nowhere close to dead." Jessica let out a breath of relief and pulled her fingers away from Stark's neck.

"Good," she said. "How much of the poison has spread through his system?"

"That's the thing," Carol said. "It's not detecting any known lethal poisons. Although, his blood-alcohol level is through the roof. Are you sure he's not just drunk?"

"I'm sure," Jessica insisted. "It's Kingslayer Jellyfish venom. We only discovered those a few years ago. Your computer might not have it."

"This computer contains a database of every species of animal in this galaxy and every galaxy known," Carol said. "If it exists, everything about it would have been indexed, including its venom and any anti-venoms."

"Did the Kree tell you that?" Jessica had to resist the urge to laugh at the way Carol's face scrunched up.

"Regardless, his vital signs are stable for the moment." Carol stepped forward and started lifting Stark into her arms. "He's not going to die any time soon. I know a place we can go until you can get into contact with Fury. We can easily keep an eye on him there. With that, Carol leaped into the air and took off with Stark in tow. Jessica let out a scoff.

"**Come on! You know I can only glide!**" Jessica squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath before she took off sprinting down the street. Already, she could feel a headache coming on.

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**Thank you to mfaerie 32 and BlueBoulder on FFN for the reviews, and QueenE for the comment on AO3! It really means a lot.**

**Now you're probably wondering why you'll want to kill me. I mean, we're leaving off on a good note. Tony's getting help. He's going to be okay, right. Well, you'll just have to wait to find out. ...And that's where the bad news comes in.**

**I will not be updating this fic at all during the month of August. The reason why is because my depression peaks around August (always has for some reason, I don't know why) and also because I have no events going on in August. My post dates usually revolve around holidays (like the Fourth of July), significant dates in the fandom (characters' birthdays, release dates for new content, anniversaries, etc.), or dates that have significance to me (family members' birthdays, dates I just have special attachments to) and sadly there's not a lot of these in August. I will still be writing, though. Although I usually take a break from posting, I don't stop writing. I usually use this time to stock up on chapters and allow myself to get ahead of the game. As I'm writing this I have chapters twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen already written and I'm working on chapter eighteen. I'm constantly paranoid that I'm going to catch up to myself and not have anything left to post, so hopefully, I can add a few more chapters to that list by the end of August.**

**Once again, I'm sorry about this. I'm not abandoning this story. I will be back on September First. Thank you for understanding.**

**Remember kids, patience is a virtue.**

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**Originally posted to FFN on 7/31/19.**


	12. Breathing Gets Harder, Even I Know That

**Welcome back! I hope everyone remembers the story so far, and if you don't... Go back and read it yourselves! This is a free story on the Internet! I don't need to recap everything for you! Stop being lazy!**

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**Monday, January 23rd, 2012**

To her credit, Carol was very careful with Stark. She didn't hold him too tightly or fly to high. She even kept her pace slow in order not to jostle him too much (and to make sure Jessica could keep up.) That was impressive considering her strength and Stark remained unconscious for the entire ordeal.

As she carried him to the safe house, it became no question in Carol's mind that Stark was drunk. She could smell it on him. It was so potent that she could feel tears build up in her eyes. How Jessica was able to stand it, she would never know. Well, she did know, but even without her own hang ups, the scent was still unbearable. How much had Stark had?

Twenty minutes later, Carol was touching down on the front stoop of the safe house. She could see Jessica halfway down the road, sprinting towards them. Glad she was able to keep up, Carol turned her attention to the problem of the door. She knew where the spare key was hidden and knew she should probably wait for Jess to catch up so she could unlock the door for her. However, Carol was impatient and even though Stark's condition wasn't critical, she still felt that it was best to get him into a warm bed sooner rather than later. Readjusting the way Stark was positioned in her arms, she stuck her fist out and fired an energy blast at the doorknob. It shattered like glass. She smirked.

_Fury's bound to have this place alarmed,_ she thought. _If Jess can't get through to him, surely this will._

Carol kicked the door open with one foot. She knew the first door on the left was a small bedroom and carried Stark there. She set him down on the bed and draped a quilt over him before going back to check on Jessica. Stepping out into the hallway, she saw Jess standing front doorway with one hand on her back. Her eyes were studying the burn mark on the door.

"What the hell?" she asked.

"The house is alarmed," Carol explained. "Fury and Hill will be notified of a burglary ASAP. That is, if you can't get ahold of them first."

"Good idea." Jessica had managed to catch her breath and stood up a little straighter. She winced a bit as she did it, though. "Flying all the way here and leaving me to run? Not so much."

"You can fly, too," Carol pointed out. "Why didn't you?"

"Because I can only **glide**," Jessica said. "There's a difference."

"Not by much," Carol said.

"By a lot." Jessica rolled her eyes as Carol laughed. "Where's Stark?"

"I put him in the bedroom over there." Carol pointed it out to Jessica and the two of them went inside. There, they found that Stark had rolled over onto his side and had pulled the quilt and the blue blanket closer around him but was still out like a light.

"How is he?" Jessica pulled a desk chair from the corner of the room over to Stark's bedside and sat down. Carol turned her attention to her wrist computer, hitting a few buttons and pointing the sensor at Stark. Again, the golden beam of light scanned the man's body twice before giving her a notification that the scans were completed.

"His readings are still the same," she reported. "Nothing abnormal. Do you know what kind of symptoms we should be looking for?"

"Headache, backache, shortness of breath, increased anxiety," Jessica listed off. "A few other things I can't remember now… Do you think we should wake him up and ask him how he's feeling?"

"No," Carol said. "He's probably too drunk to give us a straight answer anyways. It's best to just let him sleep it off and sober up."

"Alright," Jessica agreed, though she sounded somewhat reluctant. "Thanks for the assist, Carol. You didn't have to come. I just panicked."

"Anytime," Carol assured. "You don't need to apologize to me. Though, there may be some sick orphans out there somewhere that need an apology."

"An orphan hospital," Jessica said. "There can't actually be one. That just sounds too specific."

"You never know," Carol said with a light-hearted note in her voice. "Alright, get off your butt. You need to get to calling Hill and Fury.

"You're right." Jessica stood up with a pained grimace. Carol was going to question what was wrong when she was pulled into a hug. "Again, thank you for coming. You really didn't need to."

"What is this?" Carol asked. "You're acting like I'm going somewhere."

"Aren't you?" Jessica questioned. Carol pulled out of the hug and shrugged.

"I'm already in this. Might as well see it through to the end." She patted Jessica's shoulder. "Call Fury. I'll keep an eye on Stark."

"You sure about that?" Carol nodded.

"He's asleep, What's the worst he could do?"

"Die." Carol shook her head.

"If he does, I'll shock him back to life."

"That's not how your powers work," Jessica pointed out.

"Still, I have it handled. Go call Fury." Jessica nodded and stepped out of the room. Carol, meanwhile, decided to get to work at making Stark more comfortable.

Her first step was to remove Stark's wet clothing. It was standard procedure when dealing with someone who had been exposed to the elements in mid-winter. However, Stark had somehow managed to soak all his clothes, meaning she would have to strip him down to his underwear. Carol had no problem with this if Stark remained asleep throughout the process. After all, he was drunk and vulnerable. She could only imagine what conclusion he would jump to.

Pulling off his slippers and socks, Carol was unsurprised to see that Stark's toes were a slightly blueish shade of white. It was one of the first signs of frostbite and judging by how wet the socks and slippers were, he was lucky it wasn't worse. Carol checked the dresser by the bed and found that the top drawer was filled with socks and assorted undergarments. She grabbed the first pair of socks she saw and slipped them onto his feet. They were a bit too big, but at least he had something to keep his feet warm.

She pulled back the quilt and pried the blue blanket out of his grasp so she could reach the rest of his clothing. The pants she got off rather easily, but she let him keep his underwear just for boundaries' sake. Next was his vest and after that was the dress shirt. As she started to unbutton it, though, she began to see a strange pattern on his undershirt. Curious, Carol used one finger to pull down the hem of the shirt's neckline, revealing a palm-sized metal cylinder implanted in Stark's chest.

Carol frowned. She wanted to reach out and touch it but worried that would be crossing some sort of line. Instead, she let go of the hem and turned back to her wrist display. The scans that she had previously done had shown that he was at no immediate risk of dying, but she hadn't studied them further than that. Tapping the screen, she brought up a holographic diagram of Stark's body. Quickly, she saw that his physiology differed from that of a normal human. Most predominantly was the cylinder, but the scans had also detected bits of metal spread throughout his chest cavity. Moving the diagram around at different angles, Carol was both shocked and awed at the sheer amount of metal that surrounded Stark's heart. From her limited knowledge of human anatomy (or just anatomy in general), she knew a person shouldn't be able to live with their body like that, and yet Stark had and clearly continued to do so.

With a flick of her hand, Carol sent the hologram away and went back to removing Stark's shirt. She figured she shouldn't be violating his privacy and could ask him about it when he was awake and coherent. Besides, it was a much more urgent matter to his health that she gets the wet clothes off him now. Otherwise, the rest of his body might end up looking like his toes.

It was rather easy to pull Stark's shirt out from under him and feeling that the undershirt was dry, Carol let him keep it. She then draped the blue blanket over him (given that he seemed to like it) before pulling the comforter and the sheets back and slipping Stark underneath them. Finally, she pulled the quilt over him and added two more blankets to the pile. Hopefully, that would be enough to start helping him warm up.

Sliding the desk chair closer to the bed, Carol sat down. She used the end of the bed to put her feet up and got herself comfortable for what was sure to be a long wait.

"You better be worth it, Stark."

* * *

About an hour later, the front door opened. Carol had started to doze off but was jerked awake by the sound. She rushed into the hallway with a fist set and ready to blast whatever intruder thought it smart to encroach on their territory to kingdom come. Luckily – to her relief – it was only Fury and what appeared to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor.

"At ease, Captain," Fury said as he saw Carol's raised fist. "We come in peace." Carol lowered her fist and let out a breath of relief.

"Fury." Carol started to approach them while Fury gestured to the woman next to him.

"This is Dr. Martha Smith," he said. "She's worked on Stark before and is familiar with his case." Carol nodded.

"He's in the room I just came out of," she reported. "I noticed he has frostbite on his toes, but the rest of his body seems fine. He's asleep right now. I took off his wet clothes and piled as many blankets as I could on top of him." The doctor smiled.

"Wouldn't have suggested anything else," she said, a clear British accent marking her voice. "Thank you." She then walked around Carol and went into Stark's room. Carol turned her gaze to Fury.

"Where's Drew?" was his immediate question. Carol turned to look behind her.

"She should still be here. Jess!" No response. "Jess!" A tired groan.

"Yeah?"

"Where are you?"

"Kitchen!" Carol glanced at Fury and shrugged before heading down the hall.

The kitchen was in the very back of the house. Walking in, Carol saw Jessica sitting on a barstool at the counter. The way her ponytail was lopsided and the fact that she was rubbing the sleep from her eyes told Carol that Jess had almost dozed off, too, likely while she was making phone calls since she still had her cell phone in hand. She became more alert when she saw who Carol had with her.

"Fury." Jessica pulled the elastic out of her hair and tried to redo her ponytail to make herself at least the tiniest bit more presentable. "You got my calls."

"Yes," Fury said. "And I was hoping you'd explain to me what in the hell happened." Jessica swallowed hard.

"It was an accident, I swear."

Jessica then went on to explain the entire sequence of events from the text her Hydra handler had sent her to the moment she panicked and paged Carol. Fury didn't say or do anything to interrupt her, he just let her explain as best she could. As Jess talked, though, Carol couldn't help but get worried. It was clear she was having chest pain from the way she kept her hand over her heart, but also as she spoke, she became more out of breath. By the time she finished, Carol was wondering if she should pull that doctor away from Stark to look at Jess.

"…After that… I called Carol… …And she took us here…" She paused for a moment to catch her breath. It wasn't long enough, though. "I really didn't mean… …For it to be Stark. I swear on my life… They wanted me to go for… Salinas."

"Are you alright?" Fury asked.

"Peachy," Jessica said. "Thanks for asking…"

"You're out of breath," Fury pointed out.

"Really… I hadn't… Noticed."

"What's wrong." Carol's tone made it clear she wasn't going to take sarcasm for an answer. Jessica's face contorted in pain. She knew it was pointless to lie.

"My chest," she gasped out. "My head and my back…" Fury got up and put a hand on her back looking like he was trying to decide whether hitting her back would be helpful. Carol, meanwhile, tapped the screen of her wrist display and did a scan of Jessica's body. When the results came back, Carol raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"You've been poisoned," she declared. "By a Kingslayer Jellyfish." Jessica looked at her in sheer disbelief.

"You're kidding me…" Carol stepped closer and hit a button to make the results appear holographic.

"Nope," she said, popping the "p." "You can see it written here quite clearly. 'Irukandji Syndrome caused by exposure to the venom of the _Malo Kingi_, otherwise known as the Kingslayer Jellyfish."

"I suppose… I could… If I could read… Kree." Carol shrugged and turned off the display.

"Consider yourself lucky." Jessica grimaced tightly.

"I must have… …Come into contact… …With the venom… When I dropped… The Vial…"

"What vial?" Fury asked.

"The one… The poison was in… I dropped it… In the sink… After I spiked… The water…" Fury gave her a look. "I cleaned it up. Washed it… …Down the drain. I'm not that… Stupid."

"I thought you had to ingest it?" Carol questioned.

"Spider DNA," Jessica explained. "Makes me more sensitive… Like Maria's eggnog…" Carol's eyes widened, knowing the exact incident she was talking about and remembering how sick she got.

"You're having an allergic reaction?" Jessica shook her head. It took a second for exactly what she meant to click in Carol's head. "You absorbed it through your skin." Jess nodded. "Shit."

"Was this the same reaction Stark had?" Fury asked. Jessica shook her head.

"He was uncoordinated," she said. "And nauseous…" Carol locked eyes with Fury.

"That doesn't fit the symptoms," she said.

"That's probably because he was already poisoned when he drank the water." Carol turned around to see Dr. Smith walking into the room. She held a grey device with a black screen that projected green and red digital lettering. "I did a tox-screen. No traces of _Malo Kingi_ venom, but his blood-alcohol level is ridiculously high. One point oh-two six percent. I've never seen anything like it, not even when I was a resident.

_That's nothing. _Carol looked down as she tried to will thoughts of her own high score away. Smith turned her attention to Jessica.

"Did you ingest the poison as well?" Jessica shook her head.

"I just touched it," she gasped. "Maybe…"

"She's enhanced," Fury quickly explained. "Her DNA has been modified in ways we can't begin to understand."

"It makes her a little more sensitive to certain things," Carol added. "Certain herbs, spices… Pesticides particularly."

"And I imagine we'll be adding Irukandji Jellyfish to the list," Dr. Smith remarked. "There's no anti-venom for this. The most I can do is give you a shot of morphine and put you on oxygen, but you're going to have to ride this out until it leaves your system."

"How long would that be?" Fury asked.

"Anywhere from two days to two weeks." Jessica let out a groan, but the doctor was unphased. It was clear she was used to dealing with difficult patients. "I brought everything I might need with me. Would you mind getting her to a bed?"

"No problem," Carol said.

"Might I inquire as to Stark's condition?" Fury asked.

"He's drunk," Smith stated. "There's nothing in his system other than alcohol."

"But he drank the water," Jessica breathed.

"Did he throw up right after?" Jessica nodded.

"Twice."

"That explains it," the doctor said. "It didn't even hit his system. He just threw it right back up."

"Lucky him," Jessica remarked as a wave of pain hit her.

"He'll be fine," Dr. Smith assured. "He just needs rest and to sober up a bit. Agent Drew, on the other hand, needs to get to bed STAT."

Carol nodded and put her arm around Jessica, helping her stand. As she led her up the stairs to one of the bedrooms Carol couldn't help but notice that Jess kept trying to take the weight off of her, probably either erroneously thinking she was fine and trying to stand on her own, or just plain didn't want to be a burden. Carol rolled her eyes.

"If you're not going to help me out here, you're going to give me no choice but to heft you into a fireman's carry." Jessica let out an annoyed grumble.

"I'm not that heavy," she said. "I've seen you push a Jeep… Uphill. I'm nothing… Compared to that…"

"So, you might think." Try as she might, Carol couldn't avoid the hand that came around to smack her.

* * *

Carol padded down the stairs with bare feet. After getting Jessica settled into bed, she was convinced to take a shower. Apparently, she "smelled like space," and while Carol personally didn't mind the smell of space, she couldn't say when the last time she took a shower was and relented that she was probably overdue. So, finding a t-shirt and jeans that roughly fit her, she went to get herself cleaned up.

After getting out of the shower, Carol decided that she could go for a snack. Unsure of what, if anything, might be in the fridge she headed downstairs to check it out. Halfway down the stairs, she spotted Fury standing in the hallway as if he was waiting for her. Without hesitation, Carol made her way down the stairs and approached him.

"How's Drew?" was his immediate question. Carol shrugged.

"She's feeling better now that she's on oxygen and the morphine seems to have taken the edge off the pain, so that's good. Her moods also seemed to have improved with rest." Fury nodded. "Stark?"

"He's asleep," Fury said. "He's still not showing the same signs as Drew, though, so I think we can say that Dr. Smith is right." Carol nodded.

"Who is he?" she asked. "Jess mentioned something about him flying a nuke into space?" Fury let out a bit of a humorless laugh.

"Yeah," he said. "We got into a situation a few months back. Stark very much saved our asses."

"What kind of situation?" Carol asked. "The kind a girl should have gotten paged for?" Fury shook his head.

"You wouldn't have gotten here in time." Carol gave him a look.

"**For emergencies**," she stressed. "That means I drop everything I'm doing within reason and help."

"Within reason?" Fury questioned.

"Like, if I'm in the middle of pulling people out of a burning building, I'm going to finish getting everyone to safety before I come running to help."

"I feel like you use the burning building example a lot," Fury said.

"Space arson is a serious problem," Carol said with a shrug and a shake of her head. "So, what's the situation with Stark?" Fury sighed.

"You remember the Tesseract?"

"Of course," Carol said.

"And are you familiar with a realm called Asgard?"

"Never been," she said. "But I've encountered some of the people. They're good people as far as I can tell. Why?"

"Well, we had an enraged Asgardian try to steal the Tesseract," Fury explained. "His name was Loki. He put one of our top agents and our leading scientist under his spell and attempted to use the Tesseract to summon an army of massive proportions to invade the Earth. Stark is part of a team established to protect the Earth from such threats."

"And the nuke thing?" Fury sighed.

"I tried to stop it," he explained. "I told the World Security Council that I would not authorize the use of a nuclear weapon against a civilian population, especially one as big as New York City, but the Council usurped me and ordered the strike anyway. I contacted Stark – who had already been dispatched to the city – told him the situation, and he took it upon himself to fly the missile through the wormhole created by the Tesseract, stopping the invasion in its tracks." Carol raised her eyebrows.

"And he lived?" Fury nodded.

"Just barely," he said.

"Wow," Carol remarked. "No wonder he's completely tanked."

"Can't say I blame him either," Fury said.

"How long ago was this, exactly?" Carol asked.

"Last September," Fury said.

"So, four months ago," Carol said. "Has he checked in with S.H.I.E.L.D. since then?"

"No," Fury said. "Other than Agents Barton and Romanoff, we haven't called any of the Avengers in, nor have we been monitoring their movements."

"Is that a good idea?" Carol asked.

"It gives us plausible deniability with the World Security Council," Fury said. "It also prevents the possibility of any of them becoming compromised."

"From Hydra?" Fury nodded. "You know I can just go in there and blow them all into the next century, right?" Fury shook his head.

"Unfortunately, Captain, some situations require a bit more finesse."

"Finesse my ass," Carol shook her head and got back to the main topic. "So, you haven't been monitoring Stark at all. You have no idea if he's sought mental health help to deal with what happened?"

"No, we haven't," Fury admitted. "I wouldn't find this too concerning, though. Stark's always done this to himself."

"Frankly, that just ratcheted my concern up to eleven," Carol said.

"Of course, it did." Fury put his hand on Carol's shoulder. "Just take my advice, Cap. You can't help someone that doesn't want to be helped."

"We'll see about that," Carol remarked. At the same time, a small, sleep-laden voice spoke up from within the bedroom.

"Steve?"

Carol and Fury looked at each other, confirming that they had both heard the same thing. Fury turned towards the door.

"Stark," he said. "Are you awake?"

"Yes." The confirmation was all the permission the two of them needed to enter the room. When they walked in, Stark was sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Why is the sun so loud?" He looked around. "Where's Steve? I thought he was coming."

"He's not," Fury said. "I sent Commander Hill to the hotel to inform him and the other Avengers of the situation. He should still be there."

"But weren't you just talking to him?" Tony asked.

"No, I was talking to her." Fury gestured to Carol. "Stark, this is Captain Carol Danvers. She's the one who brought you here." Carol held out her hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Stark."

"Oh," Tony sighed with disappointment. Carol sucked in the corner of her mouth and pulled her hand back.

"Listen," Fury said. "I know you're not completely of sound mind now, but we have a doctor here who would like to look you over. Do you think you'll be able to answer a few of her questions?"

Stark nodded and Fury turned to go get Dr. Smith. Carol took that as an opportunity to head to the kitchen to get that snack. It took her a few minutes to search through the cabinets, but eventually, she found a bag of pretzels that still looked fresh. She also grabbed a bottle of bright-green Gatorade that she found in the fridge. It wasn't for her, though. Although Stark probably couldn't handle solid food now, he was still dehydrated an in need of electrolytes. Gatorade was the best thing on Earth for that.

When Carol walked back into the room, Dr. Smith was already conducting her examination. Fury was nowhere to be found, but Carol figured Smith asked him to keep an eye on Jessica while she checked on Stark. The questions Smith was asking Stark led Carol to believe that she was trying to rule out Irukandji Syndrome once and for all. Given Stark's answers, Carol was sure that he hadn't been affected by the poison at all.

Dr. Smith must have been, too, because all she told him to do was take aspirin for any headaches and to stay hydrated. Carol let her go back to check on Jessica before sitting back down in the desk chair.

"Hello again." She set the Gatorade down on the side table. "I got you this."

"Thanks," Stark said. "But I don't think I can handle eating anything right now."

"You don't eat it," Carol pointed out. "You drink it. Besides, the doctor said you needed to stay hydrated."

A sour look crossed Stark's face, but he took the bottle and unscrewed the cap. He only took about half a sip before he had to force the bottle away from him in disgust.

"That's all I can do," he said. "I can't…" Carol nodded in understanding.

"That's alright," she assured. "Take your time. You don't need to wolf it down all at once." Carol pulled the bag of pretzels open. "Do you want any pretzels? They might help your stomach."

Stark shook his head. Carol shrugged and popped a few pretzels in her mouth. They were good, though she usually preferred the bigger, softer pretzels to the smaller, crunchy, grocery store variety. However, she would take what she could get. She paused a moment afterward, letting herself consider what she was going to say before she said it.

"Can I ask you a question?" Stark shrugged.

"Might as well," he said. "It's not like I can go anywhere."

"How are you doing?" Stark raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. How are you doing?" Stark narrowed his eyes.

"Why do you care?" he asked.

"Because I've hit hard times before," Carol said. "And I would have given anything for someone – even a complete stranger – to just ask me that one question."

"I'm fine," Stark said firmly. "What would you know about hard times?"

"I know that a blood-alcohol of one point oh-two six is certainly pushing the limits." Stark's eyes went wide.

"Seriously?" Carol nodded. "Shit."

"If it makes you feel better, I've seen worse." Stark humorlessly laughed.

"How could you have seen worse?" he asked. "That's almost dead."

"Four point eight one." Stark fell silent. "That's the highest I've ever registered as."

"How are you alive?"

"Well first, it probably helps to know that I can do this." Carol pointed her fist at a box on top of the dresser and let out a burst of energy. The box fell to the floor a smoldering mess. She smirked at the shocked look on Stark's face. "The short story is that I stood too close to an alien device when it exploded, and it changed my DNA. Now I can do things like that."

"I take it that it also increased your alcohol tolerance," Stark remarked, though his eyes were still on the box.

"You would be right," Carol said. "I know I had a bit of an issue with alcohol before the explosion, but I did have it under control in the years directly before it. After the explosion… I went through a traumatic experience. I was violated in a way no one should ever be. On top of that, my powers started fluctuating. Sometimes they would work and sometimes they wouldn't. I felt useless and turned to alcohol to cope. That's when things started to get worse."

Carol took a breath. What she was about to say wasn't painful, but it was just stupid, and she really wished she could go back in time and kick her past self's ass for letting things escalate to that point. The painful stuff was in what she had just said, and she needed a moment to recover from it. Letting out the breath, she continued.

"My drinking got to the point where my best friend stopped speaking to me," she said. "I don't blame her. She had a young impressionable daughter and I wasn't being a good influence. At that point, I had literally nothing to stop me from drinking and I let it get out of hand. Then there was a situation. It's a very long story, but essentially bad guys were on the moon doing something evil and I tried to stop them while horribly intoxicated. I failed, obviously. That should have been my wake-up call, but it wasn't."

"What was?" Stark asked quietly.

"When I woke up in a strange woman's apartment two days later and she tells me she had fished me out of the Hudson," Carol said. "Apparently, to fix things, I tried to fly to the moon myself. My powers gave out and I fell in the water. I either blacked out or was too drunk to save myself. Luckily, Jessica – the one who thought she poisoned you – jumped in, saved my life, and brought me back to her place. It didn't end there, though. During those two days I don't remember, Jess had to babysit me to make sure I didn't get up and go searching for booze. She said she had to physically stop me from drinking rubbing alcohol. She had the bruises to prove it, too, so I know she wasn't lying."

"Why are you telling me this?" Stark asked. "Why does it matter to you?"

"Because eventually, you're going to have to make a choice," Carol said. "It might not be today, but for your sake, I hope it comes sooner rather than later. That day I could have either shrugged off the consequences of my actions and kept on drinking, or I could accept that I needed help and start reaching out. Thankfully, I chose the latter and I was all the better for it. I gained a new best friend and my sobriety helped me to repair my relationship with my old one. I'm not going to lie, it wasn't easy – especially when I was going through withdrawals – but I'm glad I made that choice. God only knows what would have happened to me and who I would have hurt if I hadn't. When it comes time for you to make that choice, I hope you remember my story and I hope it helps you to become better." Stark looked down.

"I don't think I can be better," Stark muttered under his breath. "I've tried to be better, but I can't…" Carol knew that he didn't want her to hear that, but she did and wasn't going to let it slip by.

"Everyone can always be better," she said. "You just need to keep trying." Stark was silent as he mulled over her words. Carol, meanwhile, propped her feet back up on the foot of the bed. "So, a story for a story is only fair I suppose. Now, I've heard a lot about this 'Iron Man' guy, but I think it would probably be best to hear the story from the man himself. Don't you agree, Stark?"

"You know I'm still pretty drunk, right?" he said. "The story I tell might not make sense."

"I'm willing to take that chance," Carol said. "Do we have a deal?"

"Only if you call me Tony." Carol smiled.

"Alright, Tony," she said as she leaned back in the chair and took a fistful of pretzels. "What have you got?"

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I hope it was worth the wait! This chapter was kind of long, so I'm going to keep the author's note short! Please review and comment if you liked this chapter and be sure to follow this story in order to keep up to date!**

**Remember kids, only 22 more days until fall! I can't wait! :)**

* * *

**Originally posted to FFN on 9/1/19.**


	13. The Disappearance of Tony Stark

**If you are reading this on Monday, September 2nd, 2019 - the date I intended to publish this chapter - it means what I tried worked and I have nothing to apologize for. If not, I am so, so sorry.**

* * *

**Monday, January 23rd, 2012**

Steve didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he started coming to. He groaned and rubbed his neck. He had been leaning against the wall all night. Obviously, that wasn't the best position to be in. He was trying to massage his vertebra when he heard the noise that woke him up. Someone was knocking on the door.

Standing up, Steve tried stretching to see if that would make him feel better. It didn't do much, as expected but he shrugged it off. Pulling open the door, he was unsurprised to see Lara standing there. It was probably around wake up call time, after all.

"Good morning, St… What are you wearing?" Steve looked down and realized he was still wearing his suit from the night before.

"I didn't sleep well last night," was the best explanation he could give. Lara nodded in agreement.

"I can see that," she said. "How's Tony?" Steve sighed.

"We got in a fight," he said. "He locked himself in the bathroom and I haven't been able to get him to come out. I think he slept in there." Lara frowned.

"So, he's mad at both of us?" Steve nodded. "Damn. I was hoping you could act as a buffer between us so that way things wouldn't get too ugly when he fired me." Steve shook his head.

"You're not getting fired," he said.

"I handled a serious situation the absolute wrong way," Lara said. "Of course, I am."

"You're not the only one," Steve pointed out. "And if Tony doesn't see that, I won't let him fire you."

"And if he does see that?" Lara asked.

"I still won't let him fire you." Lara smiled a bit, grateful for the assurance.

"Thanks," she said. "So, do you know if he's awake?" Steve shrugged.

"Let's find out." He went over to the bathroom door and knocked. "Tony?" No answer. "Tony, honey, are you awake?" Still no answer. Lara sighed and walked past him.

"Stark! Come on! You need to get up!" Steve pulled her back from the door.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "You're being too loud. People are still asleep."

"You were being too gentle," Lara accused. "You'll never wake him up."

On cue, the two of them paused to see if they could hear Tony waking up. The bathroom remained eerily quiet. Lara sighed and looked at Steve.

"Do you think you should go in there?" Steve reached for the knob and found it to be unlocked. That should have been a relief, but all it did was stir up concern in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Stay out here, though. Just in case." Lara nodded. Steve slowly pushed the door open. He was met with darkness and started feeling around the sides of the door for the light switch. "Tony?"

Finding the switch, Steve flipped it on and light-filled the room. He expected to hear some groan of pain or grumble of annoyance, but he was met with silence. Opening the door further, he saw why. Absolutely no one was in there. Frowning, he turned back.

"He's not in there." Lara narrowed her eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean he's not in there." Steve walked around Lara and toward the bedroom. "He probably went to bed while I was asleep."

Steve wasn't worried until he opened the door. He was shocked to find that the bed was still made and there was no sign of Tony anywhere. He flipped on the light, but it didn't make anything clearer. Even though it was obvious Tony wasn't there, Steve couldn't help but call out his name, hoping desperately that his boyfriend would respond.

"Tony?" Silence. Steve swallowed hard and turned back to the bathroom, ignoring Lara's inquiries as to what was going on.

Steve went straight into the bathroom and started looking to see if there was any place Tony could be hiding. The cabinet under the sink was too small and the bathtub was clearly empty. Unless he figured out a way to climb to the ceiling and camouflage himself as part of the stucco, he wasn't in there. However, he did find a reason to hold out hope.

On the floor, he found Tony's blazer, socks, and shoes discarded near the tub. Picking up the blazer, Steve felt around in the pockets and found Tony's cell phone and wallet. The wallet still had Tony's cash and credit cards inside, along with his key to the hotel room. That came as a small relief. Without money or shoes, he couldn't have gotten far. Quickly running over a list of hiding places within the suite, Steve was floored when he turned around and saw Lara standing directly in his path.

"Whoa, whoa," she said, putting her hands out to stop him. "Slow down. What's going on?" Steve took a deep breath. He could not believe what he was about to say.

"I can't find Tony," he admitted as his nerves started to vibrate.

"Alright," Lara said in an oddly calm, level-headed voice. "That much is obvious. Where do you think he would hide?"

"He wouldn't hide," Steve dismissed.

"He's drunk," Lara pointed out. "Drunk people are known to pass out in weird places and positions. Where in the suite do you think he could have gotten into? We'll start looking for him there and work our way through until we find him."

"I don't think anything here is big enough," Steve said. "This whole suite is too small. He'd stick out like a sore thumb."

"This is small to you?" The astonishment in Lara's voice made it clear she wouldn't have been able to hold back that comment, even if she tried. In all honesty, yes, the room was small to Steve and it was getting smaller by the second. He might have started having trouble to breathe if Lara hadn't recovered from the shock when she did. "Okay, okay. We know he's not in here, so we'll keep looking through the rest of the suite. We'll do the kitchen first, okay?"

Steve let Lara lead him into the kitchenette even though he knew it was a waste of time. They didn't find Tony in the pantry or any of the cabinets and moving to the living area was even more pointless as they could clearly see under the furniture and knew Tony wasn't there either. Steve sort of understood what she was doing. She was trying to keep him from panicking for the moment. If she kept him busy there was a chance that Tony would miraculously appear out of nowhere and all of this would be resolved without anyone devolving into hysterics. That isn't what happened, though. By the time they had checked the rest of the suite down to the bedroom closest, all she had done was confirm Steve's fears; Tony wasn't in the suite at all.

"Alright," Lara said. "He's not here. He very easily could be in one of the others' rooms. Let's go check it out."

"I hope you're right about that," Steve said, though he was starting to get a feeling deep in his gut that she was wrong.

Lara led the way out of the room and to Steve's surprise she didn't go right to one of the others' rooms. Instead, she went straight to the elevator and hit the call button. It was already on their floor, so the doors just opened.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked.

"This." Lara pressed a button on the elevator's control panel and within seconds a high-pitched noise filled the space. Steve covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. This was one of those times where he hated his enhanced hearing.

Luckily, Lara noticed his distress and took him by the elbow and gently guided him out of the elevator and down the hallway. Steve didn't lower his hands until the decibels stopped ringing in his ears.

"You good?" Lara asked.

"What did you do and **why**?" Steve rubbed his ears, hoping that it would somehow do something to relieve the pain.

"I hit the emergency fire button on the elevator," Lara said. "I would have given you a warning if I had known it was going to be that loud."

"So, you pulled the fire alarm again?" Steve asked.

"No," Lara said. "The button just makes the elevator stop on the nearest floor and stay there in the event of a fire. If Tony's still wandering around here drunk, it'll stop him from making an escape using the elevator."

"What about the stairs?" Steve asked.

"I'd lock them, but I don't have the keys," Lara said. "This is just a precaution, though. Tony couldn't have gotten far." Steve tried to take some form of assurance out of Lara's words but found difficult. Instead, he wordlessly followed her down the hall.

The hotel suites were grouped together in fours. Bruce's and Natasha's suites were on one side, while Tony and Steve's and Clint's were on the other. Lara's and Freeman's were in the next grouping further down the hall. The first door they went to be the one diagonally across from Tony and Steve's suite; Bruce's suite. Lara knocked on the door with the same ferocity she used when she knocked on the bathroom door. Steve didn't even try to stop her.

**_Knock, knock, knock!_**

"Bruce!"

**_Knock, knock, knock!_**

"Bruce!"

The door swung open to reveal Bruce standing there, looking unimpressed.

"I was already awake," he said. "So, if you were going to try to prank me…"

"Is Tony in your room?" Bruce frowned at Lara's question.

"No," he said. "Why would he be?"

"We can't find him," Lara outright admitted.

"What?" Bruce gaped. "Wait, is this a prank?"

"No," Steve said firmly.

"We're honest to God serious about this," Lara said. "We can't find him."

"How did this happen?" Bruce asked.

"Last night, Tony got upset with me," Steve said. "I'd say it was a fight, but he was completely drunk and didn't know what he was saying. Either way, he ended up locking himself in the bathroom. I waited in front of the door for him all night, but I fell asleep. He must have snuck out while I was asleep. Have you seen him?" Bruce shook his head.

"No," he said. "I haven't."

"He's not in your room?" Lara said. "He couldn't have snuck in while you were asleep?"

"How could he?" Bruce asked. "The door was locked."

"He hacked his hotel room key so we could get in your rooms yesterday," Lara said. "It could still work."

"He doesn't have his key," Steve pointed out. "He left it in the room." Lara brought a hand to her forehead.

"You couldn't have mentioned that earlier," she groaned. "Mon Dieu, did he leave anything else behind?"

"Jacket," Steve listed off. "Socks, shoes, phone, credit cards, wallet…" Surprisingly Lara let out a breath that sounded slightly relieved.

"That's good," she said. "Just more evidence that he couldn't have left the hotel. That's good." Lara turned back to Bruce. "And you haven't seen him at all? You're sure about that?"

"Positive," he said firmly.

"Alright then," Lara said. "Sorry for disturbing you."

"No, it's fine," Bruce said. "Just give me a minute to get dressed. I'll help you look."

"Thank you, Bruce," Steve said.

"Thanks," Lara said.

Bruce nodded and shut the door. Lara and Steve turned around and walked across the hall to Clint's door. Lara reached out to knock again.

**_Knock, knock…_**

Before she could finish knocking, Clint came to the door. He was all smiles as he stepped out and was quick to shut the door for behind him.

"Good morning," he said. "How are you today?"

"Uh, not so good." Steve could see that Lara was instinctively leaning away from Clint.

"Oh, that's too bad," Clint said. "Uh, you guys can head down to breakfast. I'll be down in a few minutes."

"We're not here for breakfast," Steve said. "We're looking for Tony." Clint frowned.

"Stark?" Lara rolled her eyes.

"No, Soprano," she said. "Of course, we mean Stark. Did he come knocking at your door at all last night?" Clint shook his head.

"No," he said. "It's been quiet all…" Scratching sounded at the door and it was far from normal scratching. It sounded like a caged wolf trying to escape its pen. Clint's face fell. "Shit."

"What was that?" Lara asked.

"Nothing," Clint insisted. "Absolutely nothing."

"There's something in your room," Steve said.

"Nope, nothing." There was then the sound of something throwing itself against the door. Clint hastily shushed it.

"Really?" Lara said. "Then you wouldn't mind if we took a look around?"

"You can't!" Lara raised an eyebrow.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Alright, look," Clint said. "I don't want to cause any trouble. I haven't seen Stark and this has nothing to do with what's happening." The demon threw itself against the door and started scratching again. "Oh, come on!" Clint bumped his foot against the door and the scratching stopped, but it was followed by a distressed whine. "Shut up, you're fine!"

"Barton," Lara said hesitantly. "Did you kidnap someone's child?"

"No," Clint said firmly.

"Then what's behind the door?"

"Nothing!" Lara exchanged a glance with Steve. With a few subtle gestures she communicated what she wanted him to do, but Clint caught on easily. He was the king of subtle gestures, after all. He backed up against the door and gripped onto the knob tightly. "Oh, no," he said. "You can't get past me, I'll…"

Steve went to grab Clint by the shoulders, but Clint used his free hand to push Steve away. Steve grabbed the arm that Clint had used to attack and tried to pin it above his head. Clint saw an opening and let go of the door handle. He slammed his fist into the left side of Steve's ribcage. It didn't hurt, but it provided the distraction he needed to get the upper hand on Steve.

Steve was pushed back against the wall between Bruce's and Natasha's suites. Around Clint, he could see that Lara was rushing to open the door. That was all he needed to use as much force as he safely could to push Clint to the ground and pull his hands behind his back. By the time he had Clint pinned, Natasha's door had opened, and Lara had let out an overjoyed shriek.

"Chiot!" Steve looked to the screaming woman first and saw that she had gone to the ground. She held out her arms and immediately a puppy ran into them. Lara started saying words of affection to the dog in French while scratching behind his ears. The dog responded by attempting to lick her face off. The pure joy in her laughter was undercut when Natasha spoke up.

"Jesus, Clint," she said. "Do you actually have a death wish? Because I swear to God if you died for this dog…" Steve let up on Clint and offered a hand to help him to his feet.

"Hey, I would proudly die for this dog," Clint said as he took Steve's hand. "He's the best boy and deserves all of the protection and love in this world."

"Isn't that the truth!" Lara laughed. "Oh, mon petite bébé, where did you come from?"

"Yeah Clint," Natasha said. "Tell them where the dog came from." Clint sighed.

"We were walking back to the hotel last night and I spotted him in an alleyway eating half of a cold pizza out of a box," he explained. "Clearly you can see how emaciated he is and he doesn't have any tags. I think someone sold off all his brothers and sisters, but couldn't sell him because of his leg, so instead, they just abandoned him." Lara narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"What's wrong with his leg?" Clint raised his eyebrows, surprised she didn't notice.

"It's missing." Lara pulled the puppy away from her chest and sure enough, the dog was missing his front left leg. Lara's mouth dropped in shock.

"Oh, you poor thing!" she exclaimed. "Come here and get kisses. You deserve kisses." Lara then started smooching the top of the dog's head. The dog didn't seem like he was suffering in the least.

"Alright, I know I should've said something about the dog," Clint said. "I'm sorry about that. If I must get rid of him, that's fine. I know a nice family with a farm who would love him. I'm more concerned about hiding him from hotel staff than whatever Tony or the rest of you might say."

"We can sort this out later," Steve said. "It's more important that we find Tony." Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Stark's missing?" Steve resisted the urge to groan. The exasperation and worry were starting to get to him.

"Yes! Have you seen him?" Natasha raised a hand placatingly.

"No, I haven't," she said. "Not since the party last night. What happened?" For what felt like the millionth time Steve explained the situation. He was getting sick of having to do that. However, both Clint and Natasha swore up and down that they hadn't seen Tony, nor had they let him into their rooms. By the time they finished, Bruce had joined them, and Steve was feeling an increasing amount of pressure on his chest.

_Oh God,_ he thought to himself. _Where is he? What if he's hurt? What if he's kidnapped? What if he's **dead**! Oh, Tony!_ Steve felt someone set their hand on his shoulder. He would have pushed them away, but they were being rather gentle, and he was freaking out too much to do so.

"Steve," he heard Natasha say. "You need to take a moment and just breathe."

"I can't," Steve said. "Not when Tony…"

"You're not going to find him if you're panicked like this," Natasha said. "You just need to focus on breathing for a few minutes, alright?"

Steve tried to take heed of Natasha's words. She was right after all. Standing there, freaking out wasn't going to help them find Tony. However, the rational part of his brain was being severely overpowered by the irrational parts. Thoughts of worry flashed through his head at the speed of lightning and the air in the room was getting thinner by the moment. Oddly enough, he was reminded of the time when Tony told him that he knew he was bisexual and he had to run outside for fresh air before he could even give Tony the chance to explain himself. It was the same feeling only this time his feet were firmly rooted to the ground. He felt like if he moved, he would collapse dead on the floor. He'd be more concerned about that if he wasn't throwing all of his concern to Tony.

"Steve, can you hear me?" Steve looked down at Natasha. He could see her concern etched in the lines of her brow; concern for him, not Tony. That just made things worse and added the question of whether or not the others were taking this seriously to mind. He'd say something but his throat suddenly felt like sandpaper, making speech impossible. Bruce chose that moment to speak up.

"Romanoff, I think you need to back off a little bit," he said. "I think he might be having a panic attack."

_Panic attack? _Yeah, he'd say that was about half right. He definitely was panicked beyond belief, but he wouldn't exactly call it an attack. In his mind, everything he was feeling was justified given that his boyfriend was missing. Nonetheless, Natasha took her hand off Steve's shoulder and took a step back. Her eyes remained focused on him.

"Steve," she said. "Please just take a breath and calm down. We're going to find Tony. That's a promise. There's no need to panic. We're going to find him and he's going to be fine."

"You can't promise that." Speaking forced Steve to take a breath and he almost choked on it. He leaned forward and coughed. From there he remembered the breathing exercises that his mother had him do whenever he had a coughing fit that left him unable to breathe and felt some relief come to him. When he looked up, Natasha had bent over so that she would still be eye-level with him.

"Yes, I can and I will," she said. "Tony is going to be fine."

Steve didn't believe it, but he didn't necessarily have to in order to calm down. Even if Natasha couldn't promise that it did somehow make him feel better to hear someone say it. Having the assurance and support of others was a huge comfort. Looking up, Steve could see Natasha's concerned yet reassuring expression mirrored on Clint and Bruce's faces. He could even see that Lara had eyes on him, despite the fact that the dog was trying to nudge her glasses away from her face and lick her eyeball. Steve found himself taking a full, deep breath. Then he took another and another until he felt in control of his body. He stood up straight and spoke much more solidly.

"Okay," he said. "Will you help me look?" Natasha smiled.

"We'll be glad to."

* * *

Natasha had to get changed before they went looking, but she didn't take long. She just put a bra on and exchanged her shorts for jeans, retaining the black t-shirt she had worn to bed. Clint let Lara into his suite and put her in charge of babysitting the dog while they looked for Tony. (He also told her to take whatever she wanted from the fridge and not to worry about the cost. Given how pale she was, that was clearly the smart move.) With both of those concerns crossed out, the remaining four Avengers set off in search of their missing member.

They knew Tony didn't have his hacked hotel key on him. He couldn't get into anyone else's room unless they let him in. For Steve's sake, they weren't going to entertain the possibility of a kidnapping until they had ruled everything else out and Steve was thankful for it. After all, panicking as he did wasn't fun for him either. They mostly walked the halls – Clint and Bruce going one direction, and Steve and Natasha going the other – looking for anything out of place or odd that might give them some indication of where Tony had gone. Inevitably, though, the two groups ended up running into each other with none of them having anything to show for their efforts.

"I take it you didn't find anything either," Bruce said. Natasha shook her head.

"No," she said. "I don't think he would have stayed on this floor. There aren't any public areas and he can't get to any of the rooms. If he was here, we would have found him already." Steve frowned. That meant Tony could be anywhere.

"Do we start going floor by floor?" Clint asked. Natasha thought about it for a second.

"I say we start downstairs and work our way back up until we either find him or end up back here," she said. "The first floor has the most common areas, including a bar. That's probably going to be where he'd head, first."

As much as he didn't like hearing it, Steve knew Natasha was right. Tony would head straight for the bar. He was looking for alcohol while they were fighting the night before and he had made drinking a regular habit recently. It made Steve feel stupid. He knew this was a problem and let it go on for so long. Now, Tony was suffering for his failure to intervene. If this didn't make him the worst boyfriend ever…

Neither search team had searched by the elevators as Steve and Lara had already been by there and had seen no sign of Tony. So, when they started to approach the area, they were easily taken off guard by the maintenance employee swearing loudly in Spanish. Steve didn't understand much of the language, but he knew for sure that "punta" was one of the bad ones. That was enough to tell him and the others not to bother him and take the stairs instead.

The man, however, was not going to let them pass by without sharing a few words. Just as Clint was pulling open the access door for the stairs, the man spoke up.

"Hey," he shouted. "Anyone know who the fuck did this?"

Natasha let out her own nasty curse in Russian. They all turned around to face the man.

"Uh, good morning, sir." Clint tried to sound as pleasant as he could, but the look of pure fury on his face made it clear that being pleasant wasn't going to be helpful. "Or maybe not so much."

"What seems to be the problem?" Steve made sure his voice was direct and to the point. He was the team leader and that made it his job to deal with irrationally angry people who suddenly confronted them and do it in the most peaceful way possible. He'd already failed in one of his roles today. He wasn't going to fail in another.

Steve watched as the man pointed at the elevator behind him.

"Do any of you know who keeps fucking with the elevator?" he asked. "Because this shit is not funny." A guilty look came across Steve's face as he remembered what Lara had done earlier.

"Sorry about that," he said. "That was our fault. You see, we're looking for our friend…" Steve didn't get to finish before a bout of insane laughter erupted from the man. Instinctively, he reached out his arm to push the people closest to him (which happened to be Bruce and Natasha) back.

"Do you think this is funny?" he asked. "Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to reset this thing? I don't get paid enough to do this! I break my ass all day to fix shit for your rich assholes and I make less than minimum wage! I have a wife and kids to feed! Hell, they aren't even my kids! I'm taking care of some other asshole's kids on a wage of fewer than seven dollars an hour! Do you think I want to deal with this shit? No, of course not, but you assholes have to keep fucking with the elevator and break it just because you think it's fucking funny. Well, let me tell you…"

"Keep?" Natasha tried to get around Steve's arm so she could approach the man, but Steve wouldn't let her. "You mean someone else has broken the elevator today?" The man looked at Natasha like he thought she was stupid.

"Yes," he said. "I was up here at one AM resetting this piece of crap because one of you shit-bags hit the fire button."

"Did you see who did it?" The man scoffed.

"Fuck no," he said. "If I did, I would have whooped their ass."

"And you said one AM?" The man narrowed his eyes at Natasha.

"Dafaq is all this about?" Natasha and Clint exchanged looks.

"Thank you for your help, sir." She and Clint then turned and started rushing down the stairs. Bruce called out after them, but they didn't stop. Steve took the hint and followed them, running down the stairs at top speed.

* * *

When he got down the stairs, Steve found Clint and Natasha at the front desk arguing with the concierge. He didn't need to get too close to know that the exchange was very heated.

"We're asking politely," Natasha said. "Would you please show us your security camera feed from last night."

"No," the concierge said. "It's against our policy. Come back when you have a badge and a search warrant."

"We're S.H.I.E.L.D.," Clint argued.

"And yet I still see no badge or search warrant." Clint let out a groan.

"Sir, we have a potential missing person situation here," Natasha said. "We're not going violate any of your guests' privacy. We just want to see one video clip from one particular time frame. That's all."

"No," the concierge said. "Come back with a badge and a search warrant." He then walked away, leaving Clint and Natasha standing there, frustrated. By that point, Bruce had caught up with Steve and the two of them started to approach.

"What happened?" Steve asked.

"They won't let us see the surveillance footage from the elevator," Natasha said.

"Surveillance footage?" Bruce asked. Natasha nodded.

"From what that maintenance guy said, it sounded like Tony was screwing with the elevator last night," Natasha said. "Which would make sense, especially if he's drunk."

"I followed that much," Steve said. "But why would the hotel have the footage in the elevator in the first place?"

"A lot of reasons," Natasha said. "Theft prevention, identification purposes, cases like these where someone is missing, and you need to find them. If they have footage of Tony on the elevator, we can use that to figure out where he could have gone."

"I have my badge in my room," Clint said. "I can go get it, but without a search warrant I doubt we'll get anywhere." Natasha slid her room key out of her back pocket.

"I left mine in the front pocket of my duffle bag," she said. "If you're running up there, can you get it for me?" Clint nodded and took the card.

"Be right back." He then headed straight for the stairs. Natasha turned and sat down in an armchair set out nearby. Steve and Bruce sat down on the couch perpendicular to it.

"So, if you don't get the footage, does that mean you can't find Tony?" Steve asked. Natasha shook her head.

"Not necessarily," she said. "I still find it doubtful that he left the hotel, but it would make looking for him much easier."

"And you need to prove that you are law enforcement to them because…?" Natasha sighed.

"The hotel has a right to their property and the surveillance footage is considered their property," she explained. "We can ask them nicely for it, but if they give it to us there's a chance, we won't give it back. We can tell them we're law enforcement – which we're technically not, but whatever – but without our badges they have no grounds to believe us and even if we have our badges, we need to have ordered from a judge saying that the footage is pertinent to a criminal investigation and it is necessary for the hotel to hand over any potential evidence they have. Hence, why we also need the warrant."

"So, what," Bruce said. "We're just supposed to sit on our hands?" Natasha shook her head.

"We'll wait for Clint to come back and try talking to the concierge again," she said. "If that doesn't work, we'll go back to our original plan. For right now, though I think it would do us all some good if we just take a moment to relax a bit." Steve was very aware of the pointed look she was shooting at him.

"I'm not going to freak out again," he assured.

"I know," Natasha said. "But let's just be sure."

Steve took a deep breath and tried to do what Natasha said, but found it hard. It didn't help when they heard an overly cheerful voice come from behind them.

"Oh, there you are!" Steve turned to look and saw Freeman exiting the access door for the stairs. "I just ran into Barton on the stairs, he looked like he was in a rush, but it's nice to see that you're already ready nice and early this morning." It then became apparent that Freeman had caught sight of what Steve was wearing. "Well, most of you."

"Excuse me, Mr. Freeman," Natasha said. "But I need to know if you've seen Tony Stark this morning."

"No," he said. "I haven't. Why?"

"He's missing," Steve said, his voice catching a little bit. Freeman seemed unaffected though.

"Oh, I'm sure he's fine," he said. "He'll probably be back before breakfast." The three Avengers traded disbelieving looks before turning back to Freeman with narrowed eyes.

"What makes you say that?" Natasha asked.

"Well, this is his modius operandi, right?" Freeman said. "He'll go out, get drunk, and party all night. It's nothing out of the ordinary."

"I brought him back to the hotel and he snuck out last night while I was asleep," Steve said. "We haven't been able to find him."

"Have you tried calling him?" Freeman asked.

"We can't," Steve said. "He left his cell phone."

"Well then maybe he just doesn't want to talk to you," Freeman said. Steve looked down and swallowed hard.

"Isn't that a bit callous considering your client is missing," Bruce said. "Never mind that he's Steve's **boyfriend**." Freeman shrugged.

"I'm just being realistic," he said. "I'm going to be heading to breakfast. You're all welcome to join me and I suggest you do it soon. We don't have long until we have to be leaving for the _Today Show_ after all." Freeman then turned and headed to the dining room. All three pairs of eyes watched him until he was around the corner.

"Natasha," Steve said.

"On it." She then got up and followed Freeman. Steve wasn't going to lie, he now felt physically sick to his stomach.

* * *

**What the hell am I talking about? Well, I didn't know this when I scheduled the post date, but I am going out of state. I'm still going to have access to wi-fi, don't worry, but we're going to be spending most of today driving and I won't have access to my laptop. I am saving this chapter to the Doc Manager on FFN and use the app to try and post it and I'm really hoping that will work. As for AO3, I am going to be saving this as a draft and seeing if I can fenagle some way to post this from my phone. Hopefully it works!**

**Remember kids, planning ahead is always the best option.**

* * *

**Uploaded to FFN on 9/2/19 (hopefully.)**


	14. Caught On Camera

**Where am I? What are this? Who are you?**

* * *

**Monday, January 23rd, 2012**

"You're such a beautiful puppy!"

_"Blonde waitresses take their trays_

_ They spin around and they cross the floor"_

"Such a sweet little boy!"

_"They've got the moves (oh whey oh)_

_ You drop your drink and they give you more"_

"You're going to grow up to be a big brave dog, aren't you? Aren't you?"

_"All the school kids sick of books_

_ They like the punk and the metal band"_

"Oh, Susanna," Lara groaned. "As much as I love you, you're starting to prove Tony right."

Lara was sitting on the couch in Clint's suite with the still-to-be-named puppy. She had set her cell phone down on the coffee table and for the past few minutes it had been ringing off the hook. She hadn't bothered to look at it, preferring to give her full attention to the puppy. However, she wasn't fooling herself. Glancing over at the phone's screen, she could see that the caller was coming up as "No Caller ID" which made her hesitant to answer. It wasn't until the song started up again for the sixth time that she finally gave in, picked up the phone, and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Don't hang up!"

"Too late." Lara hit the "end call" button. She had a feeling that it was going to be Dante. He probably figured out that his calls weren't going through and she had stopped him from spoofing her and moved on to another phone. She sighed, although it was probably inevitable.

Lara would have silenced her phone, but there was a chance that Tony could try to call her, and she didn't want to miss it if he did. So, every time the song started up again, she'd glance at the screen. Every time it would say "No Caller ID", so she would just assume it to be Dante and let it ring. Yes, she did consider the possibility that Tony could also call from a number registered as "No Caller ID" but she didn't want to take the risk by continually answering her phone. Responding to a stalker only encouraged them, after all.

Unexpectedly, the door opened, and Lara's hand went to where she used to keep her gun, though it was ultimately pointless; doubly so as it was only Clint entering the room. Lara mentally kicked herself for being so jumpy before turning her gaze back to Clint.

"Did you find Tony?" she asked.

"No," Clint said as he ran past her. "Not yet."

"Then what's wrong?" Lara asked.

"I just need my S.H.I.E.L.D. ID," Clint said as he entered the bedroom. "We think we know when Tony left, and we want to use the surveillance footage to track his movements."

"Ah," Lara said. "Smart idea."

"We've been known to have them occasionally." Things were quiet for a moment before Clint called out "found it!" By that point, "Walk Like an Egyptian" had stopped playing and started up again. Clint re-entered the room with a furrowed brown. "Is that your cell phone?" he asked.

"Yeah," Lara said.

"Is it ringing?" Again, Lara answered in the affirmative. "Then answer it! It could be Stark!" Clint started to rush towards the phone, but Lara held a hand up to stop him.

"It's not," she said. "I know it's not. My ex won't stop calling me. It's really annoying."

"Why don't you just tell him to stop?" Clint asked.

"You're not supposed to answer a stalker," Lara explained. "It only encourages them." Clint frowned and made a "hand it over" motion with his hand.

"Give me the phone." Lara frowned.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" Clint nodded.

"I heard you," he said. "But I can get him to stop calling you." Lara raised her eyebrows.

"You can try," she said. "But I doubt you'll get anywhere." She handed the cell phone over to Clint and he smirked.

"We'll see about that," he tapped the screen and brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?" A pause. "No, I am not." Another pause. "She doesn't want to talk to you." Pause. "Who am I? Well, I'm the guy who's going to snipe your ass if you try to call this number again." Dante must have said something that made Clint roll his eyes. "Your ex works for Iron Man, genius. She has dangerous friends. Call again and you're dead." He then hung up and handed the phone back to her. "If he keeps calling you, have Natasha answer the phone. She's a master at the art of death threats." Lara took the phone back, completely stunned.

"Thank you," she said. Clint nodded.

"No problem," he said. "We're downstairs in the lobby if you need us."

With that, Clint left the room. Lara put the phone down on the coffee table and stared at it. "Walk Like an Egyptian" didn't start playing. Everything was quiet. After a minute or so, Lara let out a breath of relief and turned her attention back to the puppy.

"Who's the luckiest boy in the world? You are! You are! Yes, you are!"

* * *

Duane Freeman patiently waited his turn in line for the breakfast buffet. He hadn't done anything out of the ordinary, nor had he contacted anyone since stepping in line. As far as anyone could tell, there was nothing suspicious about him. Natasha knew better, though, and kept a close eye on him.

The way he was so nonchalant about Tony's disappearance rubbed her the wrong way. Hell, it rubbed all of them the wrong way, especially Steve. She could see the spark of fear deep in his eyes. The sheer fear that something bad had happened to Tony sent him into a panic attack. (Something, she noted, that they should probably discuss later.) She was surprised that Freeman's behavior didn't cause him to have a heart attack right there. So, although she and Tony weren't on the best of terms now, she couldn't stand to see Steve like that. She'd look for Tony regardless, but Steve's reaction made the matter even more urgent for her.

She followed Freeman to the dining hall. She knew it would be hard to keep him from recognizing her. The best she could do was slide into a seat and pretend to be perusing the cocktail menu. She'd like to be more covert, but she could make do. She'd done more with less.

Five minutes later and Freeman was still standing in line for breakfast. For a second, Natasha wondered if they had read too much into Freeman's behavior. Then she heard a cell phone ring. Freeman was the one to pull his mobile device from his pocket and answer the call.

"Hello," he whispered so quietly that even with her enhanced hearing, Natasha could hardly make it out. She had to rely on her lip-reading skills in order to determine what he had said, and those were shit compared to Clint's. However, what Freeman said next wasn't hard to make out at all. His face completely dropped, and he shouted as loud as he could "**you lost him?**"

Every eye in the room turned towards Freeman. He quickly became aware of all the attention and awkwardly shrunk into himself as he exited the room. Natasha was hot on his six.

Surprisingly, Freeman was fast for a man his age. Natasha could keep up, but at the same time she didn't want to confront him just yet. He was still on the phone spouting important information. She could still garner something useful.

"How long has it been?" Freeman asked the person on the other end of the call. The other person probably said that they didn't know. "Well, I got off the phone with you fifteen minutes ago. Have you looked for him?" A pause. "Alright, I'm on my way over there." Another pause. "No." Pause. "Because if we bring him in, it's not going to look good." Pause. "Just think about it." Freeman sarcastically nodded. "Yeah, exactly. Listen, just send the workers out to search for him. He's probably still somewhere on your property. If you don't find him by the time I get there, I'll call the RCMP…"

"Hey, Nat…" Natasha surged forward and covered Clint's mouth before he could say any more. He had just turned a corner that Freeman had already passed when he noticed her and luckily Freeman was too absorbed in his conversation to notice the two of them. Nat had her hand over Clint's mouth until Freeman reached the end of the hallway where it emptied out into the lobby. Once he was gone, she let out a breath of relief. "What the hell…?"

"He might know something," Natasha said right away. "Freeman, about Stark. I can't be sure, though. He was very vague."

"What did he say?" Clint asked. Natasha relayed what she heard to him and his face grew more concerned with every word. "Shit." Nat nodded in agreement.

"He was still very vague," she said. "That was probably on purpose. I have no idea who he was talking to or if they were talking about Stark."

"That'd be a big coincidence, though, if it wasn't," Clint said.

"Yeah," Natasha agreed. "It would."

"What do we do?" Clint asked.

"We view the surveillance footage," Natasha said. "If we see corroborating evidence, then we say something."

"And what if we don't see anything?" Clint inquired.

"We still say something," Natasha said. "It's our only lead. I just don't want to alarm Steve until we absolutely have to."

"Alright," Clint nodded in agreement. The two of them headed back out into the lobby where Bruce and Steve were waiting for them.

* * *

As soon as Clint and Natasha returned to the lobby, they marched right up to the concierge's desk and held up their S.H.I.E.L.D. IDs and badges. Steve and Bruce quickly followed behind them.

"Look," Clint said. "We have badges!"

"I can see that," the concierge said. "Now where is that search warrant?" Natasha sighed and slipped her badge into her back pocket.

"Look," she said. "I know you need to cover your ass legally, but this is a serious situation. If you're willing to overlook the warrant issue for right now and show us the footage, we can get you one retroactively." The concierge paused for a moment to think that offer over.

"How can I be sure you'll hold up your end of the deal?" He asked.

"We're S.H.I.E.L.D. agents," Natasha said. "You've seen our badges. We can make it happen." The concierge looked both ways, as if he expected a car to come out of nowhere and hit him.

"You realize I can lose my job for this." Natasha nodded.

"I'm aware of that, sir," she said.

"So, if I'm going to do this, it better be worth my while." Natasha sighed.

"How much?" The concierge smiled.

"$500." Natasha frowned.

"$100."

"$450."

"$250," Clint offered.

"$300."

"Sold." Steve put three Benjamins he had retrieved from Tony's wallet down on the counter. The concierge quickly scooped them up and tucked them into his blazer's inner pocket. Natasha looked at him, wide-eyed with disbelief.

"Steve."

"We need to see that footage," he said. "I need to know."

"We could have talked him down further," she pointed out.

"You could have," Steve said. "But I need to know." Natasha stared at him for a moment longer before slowly nodding.

"Okay," she said. The concierge then cleared his throat.

"If you would follow me, I can show you where we keep our security footage." Steve nodded and walked through the gate separating the front and the back of the desk. The others followed him.

They were led into a back room with barely enough space for all five of them to fit. The concierge took a seat in front of a computer monitor. Natasha gestured to Steve to take the only other available seat before crouching down next to the concierge. Bruce crouched down beside Steve and Clint remained standing behind Steve and the concierge.

Jiggling the mouse, the concierge brought the monitor to life. They all watched as he navigated through different files until he got where he needed to be.

"Alright," he said. "Where and when were you looking for footage specifically?"

"The elevator," Natasha said. "Around 12:45 AM." The concierge nodded and clicked through a few more files before bringing up Windows Media Player. He queued up the video to the indicated time and let it play.

For the first full minute, nothing happened. They could have been watching a still image of the empty elevator and they would have been none the wiser. Proof that the video was playing only came when a woman stepped into the elevator, hit a button for whatever floor she was going to, and then stepped out a few moments later. Steve was becoming worried that this was ultimately a dead end when at about five minutes in, Tony finally stepped into the elevator.

Steve leaned in closer to the screen and watched Tony's movements with bated breath. Tony was very clearly bed wrangled with his hair a mess and his clothes rumpled. He seemed very out of it, rubbing his eyes and leaning against a wall for support. For the longest time he did nothing; just stared at the elevator's control panel with a glazed over expression. After a few minutes, he reached out and touched one of the buttons. He had his finger on it for less than a second before he jerked his hand back to cover his ears. Although there was no sound along with the footage, it could clearly be seen that Tony had been affected by a loud noise. With hands still over his ears, he staggered out of the elevator and out of shot.

"Can you play that again?" Natasha asked. "Just rewind it to when he got into the elevator."

The concierge nodded and complied, bringing the video back to the exact moment Tony stepped into frame. Steve's heart shuddered in his chest as he watched the video again. It was clear Tony wasn't in the right state of mind. He looked as if he would fall over completely blacked out at any second. Steve really started to kick himself then.

_Why didn't I wake up?_ he thought. _Why didn't I catch on to the problem earlier? Why did I let it get this bad? Why? Why? Why?_

When Tony walked out of frame for the second time, Steve felt himself deflate like a balloon. For one dark second, he considered the idea that was the last time Tony would be seen alive. The thought made his heart ache, but he knew the possibility could be all too real. Thankfully, the others weren't thinking along such dark lines.

"There's a camera pointed at the front doors, right?" The concierge raised an eyebrow at Natasha's question.

"Yes," he said. "Of course."

"Can you bring up the surveillance footage of the front doors starting at around the time Stark leaves frame?" The concierge nodded, closing the media player before setting off on another search through the File Explorer. Meanwhile, Bruce looked over at Natasha.

"Why do you want to see the front doors?" he asked.

"I just want to be sure that he didn't leave," Natasha responded.

"There's other exits, though." Natasha nodded in agreement.

"I know," she said. "But a person is more likely to exit a building the way they came in, especially if they're disoriented, which Stark clearly was."

"You think he might have left on his own?" Clint questioned. Natasha was quiet, thinking over her response before answering.

"It's a possibility I want to rule out." Steve translated that perfectly.

_"I don't want to alarm you or get your hopes up, but there's a possibility that Tony could be on this tape and that can be either very good or very bad. Be prepared."_

So, Steve prepared himself as the concierge brought up the file they wanted. For the first few minutes, they watched the video play at normal speed without seeing a single sign of Tony. The concierge then offered to speed up the video to twice it's normal speed. Then he sped it up again, and again. Natasha had to stop him from speeding it up to sixteen times it's normal speed out of fear that it would go too fast and they would miss Tony.

Nothing out of the ordinary was caught in the first hour and a half of footage. A handful of people entered and left the building, but none of them were Tony. At first, Steve was worried. If Tony was going to leave, he would have done so shortly after the elevator video was taken? He started to wonder if Tony could still be somewhere in the building or if he could have left through some other exit when the first very out of the ordinary thing happened. Two police officers stepped into frame.

The officers stepped out of frame as soon as they appeared. Most likely, they headed straight for the front desk to talk to the night staff. However, within ten minutes they were joined by two more officers. …Then two more. …Then a bus load. Steve raised his eyebrows and looked to Natasha. She had brought her fist to her mouth and was studying the officer's movements intently. That was enough to confirm to Steve that this was not normal.

Eventually, some of the officers stepped back into frame. Four of the officers paired off, each pair holding open one of the double doors. The rest seemed to form a wall on either side. Steve was unsure of what they were doing until a stream of people started to flood the path created by the officers. They were kicking out a huge group of people, probably a party judging by how disheveled and uncoordinated the people in the crowd looked. Steve frowned and leaned closer to the screen, trying to get a look at all the people in the crowd as they rushed by.

"Can we slow this back down to normal speed?" With a few clicks, the concierge did as Natasha asked. "Thank you."

At a reasonable pace, the crowd filed out of the lobby. From the angle that the camera was pointing, it was hard to see people's faces, but Steve knew he would recognize Tony when he saw him. For a solid minute, they watched strangers pass through the hotel's front doors. Then, Steve's heart stopped. Tony came into frame and he wasn't alone. Two police officers were physically carrying him out of the building.

Steve's eyes went wide. He watched as Tony clearly struggled to get out of the officer's grip, but they were unrelenting. They carried him out of shot through the front doors. They were only gone for a few seconds before they became visible again. However, it was only the officer's backs that were visible as it appeared, they were stopping someone (presumably Tony) from trying to re-enter the building. After a few moments, they fully re-entered the building without Tony.

Shock set in almost immediately. He couldn't believe it. Tony had gotten thrown out of the hotel by the police. How? Why? Those questions and more rocketed through Steve's mind at a break-neck speed. He was so shocked; he couldn't even react properly.

"Holy hell," he vaguely heard Clint comment.

"Do you have a camera outside the front door?" Natasha asked.

"Yes," the concierge said. "But only one."

"Play it." The concierge nodded and did as Natasha commanded.

The minute or so it took the concierge to pull up the camera footage and queue it up to the correct time did nothing to ease Steve's shock. He watched with a dead stare as the exterior video started up. For a few seconds it was only the same nameless sea of people being forced out of the hotel by the police. Then Tony appeared. The two officers that had been carrying him in the lobby video set him down on the sidewalk. As soon as he was released, Tony turned and tried to re-enter the hotel, but was continually pushed back by the police and the current of the crowd. Eventually, Tony seemed to give up. He shouted one last thing over his shoulder before turning and walking down 16th Street. The video paused as soon as Tony was out of frame. By that point, Steve had gotten over his shock.

"You threw him out?" He turned to look at the concierge, who for the first time had something other than utter contempt on his face; fear and guilt.

"Technically that wasn't me or the hotel," he said. "That was Metro Police…"

"You threw him out." That time, it came out as a statement. The concierge visibly turned three shades paler. Steve felt someone put a hand on his shoulder.

"Steve," he heard Clint say. "Let's go."

"They threw Tony out," he said as he turned to look at Clint. There was nothing but sympathy in the other man's eyes.

"I know," he said. "But if we want to help Tony, we've got to go."

Steve sent one look of complete disgust and disappointment at the sweating concierge before turning and heading back down the narrow hallway. Already, he could see that Natasha was far ahead. Steve glanced back to see that Clint and Bruce were following closely behind him. He then started walking faster to catch up with Nat. He saw she was tapping the screen of her phone.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Calling Commander Hill," she said, pulling the phone up to her ear. "We know Stark's not on the premises and S.H.I.E.L.D. has resources that can help us."

"She's right," Clint said. "S.H.I.E.L.D. can get us access to all the traffic and security cameras in the city. There's nowhere Stark could have gone where we can't find him."

"Private homes," Steve pointed out.

"We can get access to a lot of different cameras. Webcams, phone cameras, X-Box Kinect cameras…" Steve shuddered at everything about that sentence. "Look, I know you're worried about Stark. I get it more than you know, but panicking's not going to help him." Steve sighed.

"I know," he sighed. "I don't know why I keep letting it get to me."

"Because you care," Clint said. "And that's not a bad thing, but you need to pull yourself together." Steve took a deep breath and let Clint's words sink in.

"Shit!" Natasha pulled the phone away from her ear.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked. Natasha shook her head.

"I couldn't get through to Hill," she said. "I'll try her again."

"Uh," Clint said. "I don't think that's necessary."

As they were stepping out of the hallway into the lobby, Maria Hill was entering the hotel through the hotel's front doors, wearing a heavy winter jacket over her normal S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. The four Avengers rushed out from behind the counter to meet her.

"Commander," Natasha said without preamble. "We have a situation."

"You can't find Stark anywhere." All the eyes on Hill went wide.

"Yes," Clint said. "How did…?"

"Stark is safe and with a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent." If Hill said anything more after that, Steve didn't hear it. He let out a breath of complete relief.

_He's safe,_ he told himself. _He's safe. Oh, thank God._ Steve felt someone pat him on the shoulder and he smiled a bit.

"Where was he?" he heard Clint ask. "How'd you find him?"

"The 'where' and 'how' of this situation is top secret," Hill explained. "I can't tell you everything, but what little I can is probably best discussed somewhere a little more private."

"Of course," Natasha said. "We'll take this conversation up to our rooms." Hill nodded in agreement to that and the group started heading for the stairs.

"In the meantime," Hill said. "Why don't you all explain to me how this happened in the first place?"

* * *

**I currently have no idea where I'm going to be when this chapter gets posted. I could be at home, I could be at a hotel. Who knows? The only thing I do know is that if you missed the last chapter, I'm sorry. I used the FFN app to post and I saw that the e-mail looked different than the one that's normally sent out. My bad. So, if you missed the last chapter, go back and re-read it and make sure to review/comment/favorite/follow/leave kudos! :)**

**Remember kids, is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?**

* * *

**Originally posted to FFN on 9/13/19.**


	15. You're Safe

**Does anyone else feel faint? No, just me? Awesome.**

* * *

**Monday, January 23rd, 2012**

Everyone had gathered in the living area of Steve and Tony's suite. Almost as soon as they arrived, Lara (who had brought Clint's puppy with her) practically pushed Steve into the shower. Since they now knew that Tony was safe, there was no reason for him to be running around in a rumpled suit, smelling like a wet goat. She gave him a gray t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants to change into (as it was clear that they weren't going to make it to any of their interviews at that point) and left him to do what he needed to do.

That left Lara, Bruce, Clint, and Natasha to explain the events of the night to Commander Hill. Lara explained what had happened at the party and when she went to do wakeup calls that morning. Clint and Natasha picked up when they were alerted to the situation. Hill listened intently and didn't interrupt. There was a glaring gap in their story – what had happened when Steve and Tony had left the party – but none of them were able to fill it. Lara was able to give the vague explanation that "they had a fight and Tony snuck out sometime during the night," but that was it. They could only assume what had happened until Steve was present to fill them in. Until then, they could only speculate and turn their attention to other matters.

"Do you know why he was thrown out?" Hill asked.

"Not for certain," Natasha said. "But it appears from the surveillance footage that Metro Police were called to break up a large gathering and Stark somehow got caught up in the confusion." Hill nodded.

"And this was around 3 AM?" she asked.

"Yes," Clint confirmed while scratching the puppy's chest. "At least according to the timestamp on the video." Hill nodded again.

"Sounds like it matches up with what we know," she said.

"And what do you know?" Natasha asked.

"That Stark was found at around six o'clock this morning by a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent working undercover," Hill explained. "They brought him to a safe house to recover and he's safe now. However, that's all I can disclose for operational security reasons." Natasha and Clint nodded in understanding while Lara looked deeply disappointed.

"So that's it?" she questioned.

"Not quite," Hill said. "We still need to discuss how this was allowed to happen." A pregnant pause filled the room. Every face had some level of guilt written across them, even the puppy. "So, where were you all last night?" Lara was the first one to speak up.

"Well, as I said, we started off at the gala," she said. "Then I noticed that Tony was drunk and making people around him uncomfortable, so I took it upon myself to remove him from the situation. In hindsight, I was probably too pushy and that caused him to lash out at me."

"That's when he left?" Hill asked.

"Yes," Lara nodded. "Steve followed him out, though."

"What did you do after that?" Hill asked.

"I got changed in the bathroom," Lara said.

"And after that?"

"Bruce and I went to Union Station to get ice cream and almost got scammed by a cult." Hill, Natasha, and Clint gave the two of them strange looks.

"It's not like we set out to almost get scammed," Bruce defended.

"Yeah," Lara admitted. "To be fair it just kind of happened."

"But neither of you saw Stark for the rest of the night," Hill asked.

"No," both Lara and Bruce said at the same time.

"What about you two?" Hill turned her gaze to Clint and Natasha.

"The last time I saw Stark was when he and Nat got up to get drinks." Hill's gaze landed squarely on Natasha.

"I went to get drinks with him, yes," Natasha said. "But on the way to the bar, I confronted him about how much he was drinking."

"How did that go?" Hill asked.

"Not well," Natasha said. "I tried to figure out what was going on with him, but he deflected all my questions and lashed out at me. It wasn't as bad as how he lashed out at Conroy, but he was still pretty upset."

"And what happened after that?" Hill asked.

"We got to the bar," Natasha said. "Stark told me to get out of his sight, so I did."

"You left him at the bar?" Hill raised an eyebrow and Natasha looked down.

"Yeah, that wasn't the smartest move," she said. "But he wasn't listening to me and he didn't want to look at me. I knew I was talking to a brick wall, so I did as he asked."

"What did you do next?" Hill asked.

"I stayed at the gala until it was over," Natasha said. "Barton did as well. It was only when we went to leave that we found out we didn't have a ride home."

"Steve and Tony probably took the limo," Bruce said. "Lara and I took a cab to the station and back."

"Well, we didn't have money for a cab," Natasha said. "So, we had to walk in the snow and cold back to the hotel."

"We ended up finding this little guy, though." Clint scratched behind the puppy's ear. "So, it wasn't all that bad." Hill gave Clint a strange look before turning to Natasha.

"Does…?" She tapped her chest with her two middle fingers as she said that. Natasha knew what she was trying to say and shook her head.

"No," she said. "Not yet." Hill gave Clint a pitying look before schooling her face back into a serious expression.

"What time did you get back?" she asked.

"Around twelve-thirty in the morning," Natasha said.

"And you didn't encounter Stark again?" Hill asked.

"No," both Clint and Natasha said.

"Well, I think it's plain to see what went wrong here," Hill said.

"And what would that be?" Lara asked.

"You and Romanoff pushed him too much and then walked away." Lara opened her mouth to protest, but Hill raised a hand to silence her. "I'm not blaming either of you. Stark is the one who drank to excess, but at the same time, nothing you did helped either. You told him off and when he didn't do what you wanted, you left him. You can see how that might make things worse, right?" Natasha nodded.

"I understand what you're saying, Commander," Natasha said. "But with all due respect, we're not the only ones who have handled the situation wrong." Hill tilted her head.

"What are you saying, Agent Romanoff?" she asked.

"After my mission to supervise Stark and assess his eligibility for the Avengers Initiative, I wrote a report," Natasha said. "The report detailed my concern for Stark's mental health. However, before it could get to Fury, a third party tampered with it and altered the results of my assessment of him."

"Which has already been brought to our attention," Hill said. "How is that relevant?"

"Because in the altered report, my comments about Stark's mental health were removed," Natasha said. "I thought that by bringing the matter to your attention not only would you look into possible issues within the agency, but you would also heed my advisories and get Stark the help he needed."

"So S.H.I.E.L.D. is responsible for Stark's reckless behavior?" Hill questioned.

"No ma'am," Natasha said. "Stark is responsible for his own behavior. We as his teammates and employee are responsible for not responding correctly to his behavior and not keeping a close enough eye on him when we knew he was intoxicated. I'm just curious as to why S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't intervened when they knew this could be an issue for a while, and especially when they were directly involved in an incident that traumatized him and quite probably made his mental health worse."

"How can you be so sure he was traumatized?" Hill asked.

"We all were," Natasha asserted. "In one way or another, we all were." Bruce and Clint nodded in agreement to that.

"You gave me two months off and the option to see a counselor," Clint pointed out. "Did you offer the same thing for Stark?"

"That's different," Hill said. "You're an agent, Stark's a consultant. He's not under our direct employment, so therefore we can't offer him the same services. Besides, Stark has the means to seek out mental health help if he truly needs it. It's not like he's helpless."

"He's not," Lara said. "But he's stubborn and likes to live in denial. He's not going to seek help on his own. He might recognize that he has a problem, but he's not going to seek help for it. You either have to force him into it against his will or make him see the light."

"Then do that, Miss Conroy," Hill said.

"I have tried," Lara said. "Steve has tried. Pepper has tried. Rhodes has tried. Hell, JARVIS has tried. None of us have gotten through to him. While, yes, I do recognize that my most recent attempt hurt more than it helped – and I do intend to apologize for that – it doesn't change the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. could have intervened a lot sooner and that could have made the difference."

"Should we really be focusing on what could have been done, though?" Bruce asked. "I mean, it's already happened. Hindsight isn't going to solve anything."

"He has a point," Clint agreed. Hill sighed.

"I'm going to get in contact with Fury," she said. "Find out an ETA for Stark. The rest of you can figure something out on your own." She then walked out of the suite to make her call. For a moment, everyone just silently stared at the door.

"Well, that was helpful." Lara was the one to break the silence. Someone huffed in agreement.

"So, what should we do?" Bruce asked. "I mean, does anyone have any idea of how to help him?"

"Absolutely no idea," Natasha said.

"Well, don't scream at him and grab him," Lara said. "That's probably a start."

"Should we do one of those things you see on TV?" Clint asked. "You know, where they hold a meeting in someone's living room, confront them about the negative consequences of their addiction, and then force them to go to rehab." Lara immediately looked apprehensive.

"Eh, why don't we save that idea as an absolute last resort," she said. "And possibly consult Rhodes and Pepper first. I don't think Tony will respond well to that."

"It also doesn't have a very good success rate," Bruce said. "A person is more likely to distance themselves from those closest to them after an intervention than to actually seek help."

"Unfortunately," Lara agreed.

"Maybe the best course of action would be to leave him alone," Natasha suggested.

"Uh," Clint said. "The last time we left him alone he ran away."

"I don't mean completely alone," Natasha clarified. "When he gets back, he's probably going to be exhausted and out of it. He's probably going to want to go to bed and if he does, Steve is going to stay with him. I say some of us stay here in the living room overnight just to keep an eye on him."

"That sounds like a good idea," Bruce said. "I take it your suggestion was also meant as an offer to volunteer."

"It was," Natasha said.

"Then count me in as well," Bruce said.

"Me, too," Clint said.

"No Clint," Natasha said. "You're staying in your own room and watching that dog."

"He can stay with me," Clint argued. "I mean, he's being a good boy right now. You're being a good boy, right?" The puppy expressed his agreement by licking Clint's cheek.

"He might be a good boy," Natasha said. "But he's still a dog. Tony might not be a fan and we know that the hotel isn't going to be either. The last thing we need is to pay for damages to two rooms." Clint looked disappointed as he scratched behind the puppy's other ear.

"I probably shouldn't stay the night," Lara said. "I have really bad nightmares a lot of the time and that would probably make an already stressful situation worse."

"Good call," Natasha said.

"I do want to know, though," Lara said. "Should I try apologizing when he gets back or would it be better to wait until tomorrow when he's – hopefully – better?"

"Just play it by ear," Natasha said. "I've got an apology I need to make, too, but if it doesn't seem like he's going to take it, don't."

"Got it," Lara said. "So, that's the plan?"

"For now," Natasha said. "Unless anyone thinks we need to add something?" Both Bruce and Clint had no arguments and the room lapsed into silence as they waited for Hill to return.

* * *

Tony opened his eyes. The brightness of the room instantly made him snap them back shut. He groaned and reached out for Steve. He found the space Steve normally occupied empty and frowned. It wasn't even warm, meaning Steve hadn't been there in a long while if he had been there at all. He got his hopes up when he heard someone step into the room, but they were dashed when the person spoke up.

"Oh, you're awake." The voice was clearly female. Tony rolled over to face the person and again tried to open his eyes. The hash light badly stung, but he persevered through it long enough to allow his vision to clear up. There, he saw a blonde woman standing in the doorway wearing jeans and a flight jacket. Her name came to him quickly, a sign that he was starting to sober up.

_Carol. _He remembered she was a captain, Fury had introduced them, and that for whatever reason she had told him about her struggles with alcoholism. He was still mulling that over. Just everything she said had struck a chord with him. He wasn't sure what just yet, but he could feel something resonating within him. It was strange and he probably needed more time to properly think it over.

"Good morning," he weakly muttered. Carol shrugged.

"Just barely," she said. "It's just a little bit after 11 AM. Did you enjoy your little after-shower nap?"

"I took a shower?" He reached up and touched his hair. It was indeed slightly wet like someone had tried to dry it with a hairdryer but didn't do a good job. Apparently not all the effects of the alcohol had worn off yet.

"Yup," Carol said, popping the "p." "Then you crawled back into bed and slept for thirty minutes. I'm glad you're up, though. I won't have to carry you bridal-style again."

"Carry me?" Tony questioned. "Where are we going?"

"Home." Tony groaned and pulled the covers up over his head.

"No," he said. "Don't take me back. I don't want to deal with Howard."

"Your father is dead, Stark. You know that." Tony pulled the covers away from his face and saw that Carol had been joined by Fury in the doorway. He sighed.

"Yeah," he said. "Home's still not a good place, wherever it is."

"Tough shit," Fury said. "You've got a lot of people worried sick about you. It's time to get you back to where you belong." Tony couldn't help but laugh.

"I'll believe that when I see it," he said. Carol approached the bed and held her hand out to him.

"Do you need a hand getting up?" Initially, Tony was going to refuse, but as he started to sit up, dizziness overcame him. He knew right away that he wouldn't be able to stand on his own and took the offered hand. Carol helped to steady him as he slowly stood up and she wrapped her arm around his shoulders to help him keep balanced. "You steady there?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "Seriously, though, where exactly are we going? I'm not being led out to the lake like Fredo, am I?"

"We're taking you to the Hay-Adams hotel," Fury explained. "It's where you've been staying with the rest of the Avengers."

"Right," Tony said. "Don't be surprised if they won't let me back in there." Fury narrowed his eye at him.

"What did you do?"

"I'm not sure," Tony said. "But it involved cops." Fury let out an aggravated sigh and shook his head.

"You are going to be the death of me," he said.

"Well, the mighty have to fall somehow." Tony felt Carol squeeze his shoulder hard but tried to pass it off as her readjusting her grip on him. Tony wasn't fooled.

"Think you can try walking?" she asked. Tony nodded.

"Go slow," he advised.

Carol took a step forward and Tony followed. It was difficult, given that he was still ridiculously off-balance, and he felt like he was walking on pins and needles, but he managed to do it. With Carol's help, he slowly made it across the room and out into the hallway. At one point, Fury complained that they were taking too long and asked why Carol didn't just pick Tony up and carry him to the car. Carol shot Fury a look and he didn't say anything further; just let Carol and Tony continue the same slow path.

By the time they reached the end of the stairs, Tony could hear and argument breaking out on the floor above them. Two women – one with a British accent and one that sounded American but had the tiniest hints of British mixed in there – were shouting but their tones weren't angry. One sounded concerned. That voice belonged to his assigned S.H.I.E.L.D. physician, Dr. Smith. The other voice was just plain stubborn and insistent. He had a feeling he knew who it was, but it wasn't confirmed until a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. It was the woman he had known as Homeland Security Agent Jennifer Duran but was now being told was S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Jessica Drew. God, he was getting sick of the spy games.

"Jess," Carol called out. "What are you doing?"

"Going down there," Drew replied. "I need to say something." She started going down the steps. Tony noticed the way she was leaning heavily against the railing and how her free hand cradled her lower back. She made it down a few steps before Dr. Smith appeared behind her.

"Agent Drew," Smith said. "I must implore you to return to bed immediately."

"It'll just take two minutes," Drew insisted. "I'll be fine."

"No, you won't," Smith said. "You shouldn't have taken off the oxygen mask and exerting yourself like this is just going to make it harder for you to breathe."

"It's just two minutes," Drew said. "Just let me say what I need to say and then I'll go back to bed. I promise."

"I don't think that's a good idea…"

"Doctor." Smith made eye contact with Fury and within a few seconds, she relented.

"Fine," she said. "But if she passes out, I'm not carrying her back up the stairs."

Smith then took a step back and allowed Drew to continue down the stairs. Drew made it down to the bottom step within a minute or so, but by the time she did she was completely out of breath. She held on to the banister as she turned to face Carol and Tony.

"I just wanted to apologize," she gasped out. "For deceiving and almost poisoning you. I know nothing I could possibly say could make things right, but I just wanted that out there."

Tony nodded, but in all honesty, he didn't know if he could accept her apology or if it was even right to. Although he had been assured that the deception part had nothing to do with him and was an unfortunate alignment of circumstance (which Tony didn't believe, but whatever.) the poisoning part he felt he should be less forgiving for. After all, he could have died. However, he did feel a certain amount of karma in the fact that in attempting to poison him, she ended up poisoning herself. That wasn't enough to entirely make up for her actions, though. He did suppose that maybe the apology did help a little bit, especially since she sounded genuinely remorseful. For now, it was probably just best to say he accepted the apology and hope he never encountered this woman again. Knowing the way of the world, that probably wouldn't happen.

"Alright," he said. "Thank you." Drew nodded and looked down.

"We'll be back," Carol said. "It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours." Drew nodded again and gestured towards the stairs.

"You know where to find me," she said. She turned back around and as soon as she set foot on the first step, Dr. Smith rushed down to help her up. Carol and Tony continued the rest of the way and met Fury at the front door.

"Are you ready?" he asked. Tony could see Carol smile a bit as he nodded.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand." Fury plopped a cap down on her head. Carol pulled it off and turned it around, revealing that the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo was embolized across it. "Still doing the logo thing?"

"It's best not to have too many questions." Carol shrugged and put the cap back on her head.

"I still don't think that's a good idea," she said.

"Laser tag," were the only two words Fury needed to say to wipe the smirk of Carol's face. Tony wasn't sure what he just witnessed, but he was sure it was nothing he would ever see again, even if he lived to be a thousand and tried to appreciate the moment as best he could as Carol led him to the car.

* * *

Steve stared forward as he laid across the couch. He had almost dozed off a few times but managed to stay awake. He didn't want to miss it if Tony came back, so he forced his eyes to stay open.

After he got out of the shower, Steve had to explain the events of the night to Hill. It was hard, especially when he had to explain his fight with Tony. Out of respect for his boyfriend, Steve didn't elaborate on some of the things Tony had told him, specifically the stuff about Howard. Thankfully, Hill didn't press too much on that issue and Steve had a feeling that Natasha – who had been sitting next to him – might have had something to do with that.

Afterward, Hill had told them that they were free to go about their business and that she was going down to the lobby to wait for Fury and Tony. Again, Steve didn't want to fall asleep, but he was just too exhausted both physically and emotionally. He needed some form of rest.

Surprisingly, after Hill left, the others stayed. Lara did leave to check her blood sugar at one point, but quickly returned and brought back breakfast with her, which the others were grateful for. A plate was left out for Steve, but he didn't bother to get up to eat it. Someone flipped on the TV and they spent the next few hours mindlessly watching television. Lara and Bruce were sitting in the loveseat across from Steve, Clint was curled up in one of the armchairs with his puppy, and Natasha remained in the same spot next to him. She had her hand on his shoulder as if to reassure, but the only person Steve wanted reassuring him was Tony.

After what felt like an eternity, Natasha's cell phone started to ring. She answered it and spoke quietly with the person on the other end of the line. The conversation was short with only a few words being exchanged before she hung up. Steve's heart froze as he waited for her to speak.

"That was Hill," she said. "She and Fury are on their way up with Stark."

Instantly Steve got up and headed towards the door. The others called after him, but he paid them no mind as he left and went to the elevators. By that point, the elevator had been repaired and when Steve got there the display above the doors kept changing numbers, showing that the elevator was going up. Steve crossed his fingers as the display froze on their floor number and the elevator gave a **ding!**

Steve's heart started up again as the elevator doors opened. All he could see was Tony. A look of clear apprehension crossed his boyfriend's face as their eyes connected. Steve realized that Tony was probably afraid that he was angry. He hoped those worries were dashed when he crossed the threshold and wrapped his arms around him.

Tony melted into Steve like butter. Steve rubbed Tony's back and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. Tony made a little noise of satisfaction and Steve squeezed his eyes shut.

_You're safe,_ he reminded himself. _You're safe._

* * *

**Thank you to The Other Jet Engine and mfaerie32 for the reviews on FFN! It really means a lot!**

**So yay! They're back together again! I hope you're all starting to forgive me for the bad stuff I did! Now you can all hate me for the fact that I spent three weeks writing one chapter and I might have completely fucked myself! Yay!**

**Remember kids, no matter how much you try to plan for life, it's just going to happen.**

* * *

**Originally posted to FFN on 9/15/19.**


	16. Don't Mess With My Heart

_**No, no, no, no! Don't Phunk with my**** heart!**_

* * *

**Monday, January 23rd, 2012**

Tony shut his eyes as Steve's arms wrapped around him. He felt him press a kiss to the side of his head, and Tony buried his face in the juncture between Steve's neck and shoulder. He took a deep breath in and savored the moment. Steve wasn't going to hold him like this forever or ever again. He needed to cherish it.

Slowly, Steve started to pull away. Tony frowned and tried to pull him back. Steve smiled at him with a bit of concern in his eyes. Tony felt his heartbreak a little bit. He knew he wouldn't be looking so sympathetic in a few minutes. Tony was sure of it.

"Hey," Steve said softly. "Can you stand?"

Tony stared at Steve blankly. Since he took so long, Carol – who he had forgotten was standing next to him – answered for him.

"He has frostbite on his toes," she said. "It's probably best to stay off his feet."

Steve nodded, and within seconds Tony found himself lifted into Steve's arms. Tony was astonished for a moment before he remembered that Steve had super strength. Lifting him was probably nothing compared to raising a bus. Tony found himself wrapping his arms around Steve again. Again, he knew it wouldn't last, so he tried to enjoy it.

Steve carried Tony down the hall to their suite bridal-style. Although he was trying to enjoy the moment, Tony couldn't help the fantasies the situation suggested; Steve carefully and gently carrying him to their bed and then brutally making love to him. The idea was so tantalizing that it was a shame that it would never happen.

The door to the suite was open, so Steve just walked right in. Tony was surprised to see the other Avengers standing there, waiting for him. He didn't think they would care enough even to look so concerned. Alright, he thought Bruce might be a little worried at least, but he wasn't expecting Barton and Romanoff to care at all. The only one that didn't look concerned was Lara. The expression on her face looked more like one you would give a person who cornered you in an alleyway with an AK-47. He couldn't blame her. Honestly, he felt the same.

Steve carried Tony to the living area and set him down to lie across the couch. Tony made a noise of displeasure when Steve pulled away again, but Steve crouched down beside him and pushed his hair away from his forehead. Tony couldn't help the way his heart fluttered as Steve smiled at him.

"You're okay," Steve tried to assure him. "You're safe." Tony wanted to believe him; he did. However, he knew he was standing on the precipice of one of the worst arguments of his life. He was about to lose his boyfriend. He knew it, and nothing could convince him otherwise.

"How is he?" Tony looked up at Natasha. She was standing behind Steve and hadn't dropped the look of concern.

"He has frostbite," Steve said. "I'm not sure what else." He looked at Tony expectantly. Again, Tony stared at him, not saying anything. Steve looked concerned and placed a hand on his cheek. Tony almost broke down right there. Why was Steve making this more painful than it needed to be?

"Not much other than that," Tony heard Fury say. "He's just hungover. You might want to keep him away from the booze for a bit." Tony threw his head back against the pillow.

_Isn't that the understatement of the week,_ he thought. _And it's only Monday._

Tony looked over to the door and saw that Fury had walked into the room, followed by Hill and Carol. Carol had her hands in the pockets of her flight jacket and looked like she wasn't trying to draw attention to herself. She gave him a sympathetic look but didn't say anything.

"That's all?" he heard Romanoff ask.

"That we're aware of," Fury said. "We've had a physician check him out. She deemed him healthy enough not to be constantly monitored."

Tony's eyes went back to Steve's. He could see that his boyfriend was looking for assurance straight from the horse's mouth, but for some strange reason, Tony couldn't find the words to say. He just kept looking at his boyfriend, blankly. It was honestly the most assuring expression h could manage with the turmoil of emotions churning inside of him. Steve looked at him with a sad expression and placed a hand on Tony's cheek.

"Are you the agent who found him?" Natasha had directed that question at Carol. She quickly exchanged a look with Fury before responding.

"Not really," she said. Natasha gave her a weird look. "An agent, I mean. I did bring Tony to safety. S.H.I.E.L.D does not employ me. I was with the Air Force, but I've taken things to the next level." Natasha's eyes narrowed, clearly scrutinizing Carol. Carol didn't flinch. When it became clear she wasn't going to elaborate on herself any further, Fury spoke up.

"Her name is Captain Carol Danvers," he said. "I assure you, she's a friend. We go pretty far back." He then started gesturing to the other people in the room. "These are the Avengers. Dr. Bruce Banner, Agent Natasha Romanoff, Agent Clint Barton, Captain Steve Rogers, and… Some blonde chick who has nothing to do with anything." Lara looked like she couldn't decide to feel affronted or not. It seemed she settled on not as she made eye contact with Tony and her expression snapped back to afraid. Carol, meanwhile, nodded.

"Nice to meet you all," Carol said. "I've heard a lot about you."

"And we've never heard anything about you," Clint said. Carol shrugged.

"Fair enough," she said. "I'm rarely ever here on business after all."

"Then what brought you here today?" Natasha asked.

"Fun," Carol said. Tony could see in the way Natasha's expression kept hardening that she didn't appreciate the vagueness. For Carol's sake, Tony just wanted to fill in all the blanks as to what happened, but at the same time, he knew he probably shouldn't. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they were keeping the story vague and not mentioning Agent Drew for a reason. Honestly not wanting to deal with Fury's rage now (or do anything to make the already horrible situation worse) Tony stayed quiet for once.

Natasha seemed to be catching on to the fact that they were purposefully leaving stuff out as well. She looked to Fury and the S.H.I.E.L.D. Director gave her a look that said "we're doing this for a reason. Keep pushing, and this could blow up in all of our faces." Natasha gave a small nod of understanding before turning back to Carol.

"Well, it's wonderful to meet you, Captain Danvers." Natasha held out her hand.

"You as well, Agent Romanoff." Carol shook it then turned towards Clint.

"I'd shake your hand," he said. "But my hands are full with the puppy."

"Got it," Carol said, giving him a thumbs up. "We're cool."

"Wait; what?"

Instantly Tony was sitting up and trying to get a better look at the object held in Clint's arms. Sure enough, it was a puppy.

"Where the hell did that come from?" he asked.

"Uh," Clint said. "An alleyway on 10th Street between a hotel and a Bank of America. I found him eating out of a Lucky's Pizza box, and I was thinking of naming him…"

"Please tell me it hasn't destroyed anything yet." Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. He could already feel the headache coming on.

"First, it's a **he**," Clint said. "Second, he hasn't been alone since I brought him back. Someone's always been with him, and he hasn't been allowed to get into anything, or tear up anything, or pee on anything…"

"And you're not planning on bringing him back to the tower?" It was then that Clint started to look guilty.

"Only temporarily," he tried to assure. "A few hours; a day at the most. I have somewhere for him to go, I need to make a call and get ahold of a plane first." Tony sighed.

"Fine," he said. "Make sure he doesn't damage the room and that the hotel staff doesn't see him. If they do, you're paying for it." Clint nodded.

"Roger that," he said. Slowly, Tony started to inch his way back into a lying position. Steve helped him, but Tony couldn't help but notice the slightly disappointed look on his face. Dread started coming up from his stomach and attempted to consume every part of his body.

_The relief is wearing off,_ he thought. _He hates me. He's going to leave me._

_You deserve it, though._ Tony couldn't help but agree with that part of himself. He's been such a terrible boyfriend. He's surprised Steve didn't break up with him sooner. Yes, didn't. He had already accepted that this was going to happen. There was no point in fooling himself, after all.

"There's nothing else wrong with you, right?" Steve asked. "Nothing hurts or feels weird?"

Tony looked down and shook his head. He felt Steve slowly reach over and take his hand in his own, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Tony squeezed his eyes shut. The sweetness of the gesture almost made him sick.

"Is there anything else we need to know?" Natasha asked.

"He'll be fine," Fury assured. "Just let him rest and keep an eye on him. If you notice any unusual symptoms, take him to the Emergency Room right away and contact us." Natasha nodded.

"Will do," she said.

"Is it safe to move him or should we keep him on the couch?" Bruce spoke up and asked.

"He can move," Carol answered. "He can even walk. You have to support him and be mindful of his toes." Bruce turned to Steve.

"Do you want to take him to the bedroom?"

"Depends." Steve turned to Tony. "Do you want to go?" Slowly but surely, Tony nodded. He felt Steve's warm arms start to wrap around him just as Carol approached.

"Hold on," she said. "I want to give you this." She held out a piece of paper, and Steve took it to pass to Tony. (The "no handing" rule didn't apply to boyfriends.) Looking at the piece of seashell stationery that had taken from the safe house, he saw a set of numbers written in blue ink. He instantly recognized them to be frequency waves.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Just in case Fury forgets to invite me to the party again," she said. "I can trust you not to leave me out, right?" She gave him a wink.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Carol smiled.

"Good," she said. "It's nice to know that at least **someone** has manners." Tony must be mistaken because he could have sworn, he saw Fury roll his eye."

"If that's all," he said. "We'll be leaving you all to rest for now." Steve nodded and held out his hand to Fury.

"Thank you, all of you," he said, looking to Carol and Hill as well. "Thank you for finding him and keeping him safe. I don't want to imagine what would have happened if you didn't. I can't thank you enough."

"It's no problem, Captain," Fury said. "Although, next time we meet you're going to have to explain why you and Stark haven't disclosed your relationship to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Tony saw a look cross Steve's face that he hadn't seen since the time Pepper figured out that he was bi; sheer panic. Tony's first instinct was to get up and comfort him, but the knowledge that he would probably fall over and crack his head open if he tried kept him from doing so. Luckily, Carol caught on and smacked Fury on the bicep.

"Ease up," she said. "You're scaring the boy."

"Trust us," Lara said, speaking up for the first time. "He looks much worse when he's scared." If that wasn't enough to make Tony's stomach churn, the other Avengers nodding in agreement to that remark did it.

_Oh, God, what have I done?_

After Natasha mouthed to Steve, "he's not going to arrest you," Steve seemed to relax, at least a little bit. Tony still wanted to get up and reassure him, though. Oh, how he hated what he had done to himself, but he knew it was nothing compared to what he had done to Steve.

Quickly saying their goodbyes, Fury, Hill, and Carol left. Steve collected Tony up into his arms again, and this time he lifted him off the couch. Tony would have wrapped his arms around Steve's neck, but he would have to let go of the blanket he had taken from Salinas' house (which yes, he still had) and he was cold, so he didn't want to do that. Steve started carrying Tony through the living area and towards the bedroom. Natasha cut in front of them to open the door. From there, she also pulled back the sheets on the mattress. Steve set Tony down on the space Nat made and pulled the covers back over him. Carefully, he straightened the sheets.

"Are you comfortable?" Tony nodded. "Are you sure? Do you need more blankets?" Tony didn't say anything, just eyed Steve warily.

"You probably should," Bruce said from the doorway. "If he has frostbite, the most important thing to do is warm him up."

"Do you want to look at him." Bruce looked at Tony and caught on to his apprehensive look. He shook his head.

"No," he said. "It can wait for a bit. We can get away with just keeping him warm for now."

"There are extra linens in that cabinet, right?" Natasha asked.

"Maybe," Steve said. "You can check."

Natasha opened the cabinet up, and sure enough, there was an extra set of linens inside. She and Steve spread the blankets over Tony while he stared up at the ceiling. He felt like he was waiting for a bomb to go off. They were kind to him, but with the only outside witnesses gone, he knew they had no reason to keep up the façade. The yelling would start sooner than later, and Tony just wanted it to be over. It seemed like that was what was going to happen when Nat finished spreading the last blanket over him and crouched down beside him.

"Hey," she said. "Do you need anything else?" Tony quickly shook his head. Natasha, catching on to his wariness, sighed. "You think I'm mad at you, don't you?" Tony gave her a "well, duh" look. "Well, I'll tell you this; I'm not happy, but I'm not mad either. I'm sorry. I picked the wrong time and place to press the issue I shouldn't have confronted you the way I did. Can you forgive me?"

Tony looked at her, completely stunned. He couldn't figure out why she was the one apologizing. He was the one who had done something wrong. If anything, he was the one who should be apologizing not only to her but to everyone else for that matter. Shockingly, despite this, he found himself looking her in the eye and saying "yes." Natasha nodded in response.

"Thank you," she said. "Conroy wanted to apologize as well. Do you…?"

"No." Although, yes, he did recognize that Lara did need to apologize for grabbing him, he knew he probably shouldn't force her to do it now. She looked scared when he walked in and probably didn't need to be pushed like that.

"Alright," Natasha said. "I'll leave you to rest, then."

Without another word, she followed Bruce out the door and left the room. Slowly, Steve started heading for the door as well. Tony felt a wave of panic go through him as Steve set one foot over the threshold.

"Don't." Steve stopped in his tracks and looked at Tony. He felt tears pricking at his eyes as he took in the surprised look on Steve's face. "Don't."

Slowly, Steve stepped back into the room and shut the door. He made his way to the other side of the bed and sat on the edge. Tony patted the space next to him, giving Steve permission to lay down as well.

Steve laid down but didn't get under the covers or touch Tony, which made him frown. Again, he felt like he was waiting for an explosion. He knew the words were coming, and he just wanted to have them out there.

"You don't have to talk," Steve said. "We can just be quiet."

Tony raised an eyebrow. Those weren't the words he was expecting. He turned over onto his side to face Steve and saw that his boyfriend was just as close to tears as he was.

"I'm serious," Steve continued. "If you don't want to talk, that's fine. I'm just glad to have you back here, safe and sound."

"Why?" Tony knew what he was asking, but Steve took it another way.

"Because I care about you," Steve said. "How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?"

"I can't." The devastated look on Steve's face caused a few tears to spill over the edge.

"Why not?" he asked. Tony couldn't bring himself to answer. "Is it because you don't care about me?"

"No!" The word came flying out of Tony's mouth faster than he could think it. "Of course, I care about you, Steve. I care about you more than I care about myself."

"Then why don't you believe me?" Steve asked.

"Because I'm not worth caring about." Tony's response stunned Steve into silence. "I mean, look at what I've done. I've put you through hell in the last twenty-four hours. I got shit-faced drunk, and anytime anyone tried to say anything about it, I got nasty and ran away. I mean, I don't think I have a problem, but I do know that's not okay. You shouldn't be around me. No one should. I'm surprised you didn't break up with me the moment you saw me…"

"Is that what you want?" Tony swallowed hard.

"It's what I deserve."

"But is it what you want?" Tony felt his bottom lip quiver a bit as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"No," he said in the tiniest voice possible, but he knew Steve heard him. He felt a hand come down on his shoulder.

"Then I won't," Steve said. "I'm not going to leave you like this. I never will." With that, the dam broke. Tony got as close to Steve as the layers of blankets would allow and buried his face in his shoulder. The sobs came out at a rapid rate.

"Why?" Tony said. "Why am I like this? Why?"

"Um…" The way Steve was rubbing Tony's arm was comforting, but the noise that came out of his mouth was not. Tony tried as best he could to get his sobs under control as he pulled away.

"What?" Steve hesitated. "Steve."

"You might have said some stuff last night that kind of makes sense…" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"What did I say?"

"We don't have to talk about it now," Steve said. "I mean, you're already upset…"

"Steve, what did I say?" Steve sighed.

"Well, first you told me Howard forced you to drink alcohol at nine years old." Tony let go of a breath he'd been holding for the past thirty-two years. He couldn't believe what a relief it was. It was like someone had pulled a leech of his chest.

"Wow," he said. "I've never told anyone that before."

"So, it's true?" Tony nodded.

"Yes," he said. "My dad… He wasn't always the person people saw him as. A lot of things happened over the years. It changed him. I doubt he was anything like the man you knew by the time I came along."

"He forced you to drink?" Tony nodded. "Did he do anything else?"

"A lot of things," he said. "I don't think I could list them all off the top of my head."

"You don't need to," Steve assured.

"I had some reprieve," Tony said. "My mom when she was around, Jarvis, Ana, Aunt Peggy, but they couldn't always make things better."

"I'm so sorry," Steve said. Tony shrugged.

"Why?" he asked. "It's not like you could have done anything to stop it."

"If I was there…" Tony cut him off.

"Steve, **Peggy** couldn't do anything," he said. "Believe me; she tried more than once. My mom, Jarvis, Ana… None of them could do anything at all. Howard just was who he was. Even if you were there, I don't think it would have made a difference. Besides, if you were there then, you wouldn't be here now, and I'm glad you're here now."

"So am I." Tony felt his lips quirk upwards as a couple more tears streamed down his face. It didn't last long, though.

"Did I say anything else?" Steve hesitated a moment.

"You said that 'drinking makes you better,'" he said. "That you don't have nightmares or flashbacks when you're drunk."

"True," Tony agreed. "What else?"

"That you didn't care about anything when you were drunk, and people liked you better when you drank." Tony nodded in agreement to that and urged Steve to go on. "You said no one values you for anything other than a paycheck and free tech."

"Well, don't they," Tony said. "Don't you?"

"No," Steve said. "You're much more to me than that." Tony looked down. "You also said one other thing."

"Oh," he said. "What was that?"

"That you thought that you were unworthy of being in my presence; that you don't deserve all the adoration I give you, and you should have offed yourself years ago." Tony's stomach churned, and his blood ran cold. With wide eyes, he pulled Steve into his arms.

"Oh, Steve," he said. "I'm sorry! I am so sorry!"

"Is it true?" Steve asked. "Do you think that?"

"I…" Tony couldn't defend himself. That would be a lie. He couldn't say that he didn't continuously question why Steve was even with him, and he couldn't say that he never had suicidal thoughts before. Most importantly of all, he couldn't lie to Steve like that. So, he stayed silent.

"Tony," Steve said. "I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to listen well. I meant every single word I said that night on the hellicarier, and it still stands true even now. I… I like you. I want to be your everything just like you're my everything. I'd have nothing if I didn't have you. You almost sacrificed yourself to save the whole world. You deserve every piece of affection I or anyone else gives you and please, please never doubt that. You are wanted for you, by me if not anyone else. Do you understand?"

Tony couldn't help it. He started bawling in the second sentence. When Steve finished, he pulled him in for the wettest, most snot-covered kiss of his life. When he pulled back, his breathing was staggered.

"That," he said. "Was the best thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Never doubt it," Steve said. "Not even for a second." Tony rubbed his thumb across Steve's cheek.

"Get under the covers," he said.

Steve did as told and pulled back the covers, getting into the bed without a moment of hesitation. Tony, meanwhile, pulled the blue blanket out from underneath him, and as soon as Steve was in bed with him, he spread it over the both. Steve enveloped Tony in his arms in a second.

They hadn't said everything that needed to be said, but it was a start. The start of what, Tony wasn't sure, but it was enough for now. They could hold each other in silence and be at peace. After the morning they had, they deserved it.

* * *

**Thank you to mfaerie32 for the review on FFN! It means a lot!**

**Why do I have the Black Eyed Peas stuck in my head when most of the inspiration for this chapter came from listening to Ed Sheeran? I don't think I'll ever know the answer to that. Anyway, happy first day of Fall, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope you enjoy the equinox as much as I do! (Fall is my favorite season!)**

**Also, btw, I used Grammarly premium to edit this chapter, so if anything seems wrong or out of place, let me know. **

**Remember kids, _put your faith in my stomach!_ (Please tell me I heard that lyric wrong.)**

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**Originally uploaded to FFN on 9/23/19.**


	17. Prevention

**You can alternatively call this chapter "interventions don't work unless the person wants help." (Warning: Long A/N)**

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**Monday, January 23rd, 2012**

"Please tell me you weren't lying about the fried egg sandwiches," was the first thing Lara said when she walked into the suite.

"Making it right now," Bruce confirmed, flipping the egg over in the pan as he spoke.

"On wheat bread?" Bruce nodded.

"I made sure to get wheat bread at the store," he said. "I know you can't have anything else."

"Thank you," Lara said as she took a seat next to Natasha at the counter. "I was starting to get hungry, and this eliminates the need to explain my dietary restrictions to the takeout people."

"Glad to be of service," Bruce said before turning to Natasha. "Do you think Barton will want any of this?"

"I don't know about the soup," Natasha said. "But he'll want the sandwiches. I'll bring some to him when they're done."

"I have some done now if you want them," Bruce said. "I'm just making Lara's fresh." Lara smiled in appreciation.

"Okay then," Natasha said. Bruce nodded and went to make her a plate.

"How are they?" Lara asked, nodding her head towards the bedroom door.

"Quiet," Natasha said. "The crying stopped a while ago. I think they're asleep."

"You haven't checked on them?" Natasha shrugged.

"I'm not going to until I need to," she said. "Especially when I don't know their state of dress." Lara nodded in agreement.

"Good call," she said. "I've been looking into ways to approach our current problem."

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked.

"Ways we can talk to Tony and try to keep what happened yesterday from happening again," Lara said. "I still don't think a spontaneous intervention is going to be helpful. At least, not one orchestrated without the help of a mental health professional."

"I think that goes without saying," Natasha said.

"I've also been texting Pepper to keep her appraised of the situation," Lara said. "And she agrees with me on that. If we do it as they do it on the TV show, Tony's just going to cut us all out of his life and likely self-destruct soon after."

"I don't want to know how she can be so sure of that," Bruce said as he ladled the soup into the bowl.

"Thankfully, it's not something anyone's attempted," Lara said. "The TV show just happened to be on once, and he just told her and Rhodes, 'if anyone ever did that to me for any reason, I'd never spoken to them again.'"

"Yikes," Bruce remarked.

"Can't say I don't agree with him, though," Lara said.

"Could Pepper suggest anything?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah," Lara said. "Bring him back right away."

"I take it you don't think that's a good idea," Bruce said. Lara sighed.

"It's not the State of the Union or the whole PR mess that we're in," she said. "I'm just hesitant to put Tony on a plane when he's in the state that he's in, especially one with a bar."

"Understandable," Bruce said.

"Is there a way to lock up the bar?" Natasha asked.

"I think JARVIS can," Lara said. "But I'm sure Tony has a way to override him. The point would be mute."

"We could fly commercial," Bruce pointed out. "Tell the flight attendants not to serve him."

"Do you want to fly commercial after being on that plane?" Bruce must have frowned a little bit, so Lara took it as agreement. "Exactly. Besides, I don't have the money to fly commercial. I'll take the free ride on the private jet."

"Couldn't Stark pay for your ticket?" Natasha asked.

"He could and he probably would," Lara said. "He'd also probably pay off my sixty-four thousand dollars in medical debt if I asked him to, but I don't make it a habit to take advantage of people like that. That's also probably why I get stepped on all the time, but you know…"

"Driving," Bruce said. "We can try driving."

"Two-hundred miles with a dog and a guy with a hangover," Lara said. "I'd rather drive to Vermont and back with a sick kid."

"Clint also hits people when he sees a car with an out of state license plate," Natasha added.

"Yippee," Lara said unenthusiastically.

"So what choice does that leave us with?" Bruce asked.

"None." Lara started rubbing her temples. "We're essentially stuck in limbo until Tony sobers up, and provided that he doesn't go through withdrawals."

"Which is unlikely," Bruce concluded. "He's probably already started."

"So we're stuck here," Natasha said. Lara nodded in confirmation.

"Nope," Lara said. "We're going to be stuck at the Motel 6 after Wednesday. Again, I can't afford this."

"It's not on you to pay for our accommodations," Bruce pointed out.

"Someone has to," Lara said.

"Not you," Natasha said. "If it comes down to it, S.H.I.E.L.D. can cover the expense of our delay. If they don't want to pay for your room, you can room with me."

"Thank you," Lara said gratefully.

"So, taking him back to the tower isn't an option," Bruce said. "Where does that leave Tony? He needs help as soon as possible, and he's not going to be able to get it until he gets home."

"I know," Lara said. "It's a _Catcher in the Rye_."

"What?" Natasha looked at Lara with real confusion on her face.

"I think you mean it's a _Catch-22_," Bruce said.

"The same thing," Lara dismissed. "I'm tired. I can't American right now. You're lucky I haven't reverted to French."

"We need to figure something out," Natasha said. "I get the feeling that the longer we let this go unaddressed, the more likely Stark is to do this again."

"Well, what do you suggest?" Lara asked. "Because I've got nada."

"All of us sit down with Stark and ask him what the best way would be to help him." Lara frowned.

"That would be an intervention," Lara said. "I think we've already said numerous times that is a terrible idea."

"No, it's not if we don't confront him," Natasha said. "And we let him choose to talk to us. We're not going to gang up on him or force him to do anything he doesn't want to. We're just going to calmly ask him if there's anything we can do to help him."

"Provided he wants help," Lara said. "Given that he almost killed himself with alcohol, I would say that he probably doesn't."

"You never know until you ask," Natasha said. Lara shrugged.

"True," Lara said. "But it's on him to take the hand he's offered. People usually don't want to do that." The cold note in her voice didn't go unnoticed.

"I'd raise my expectations of people if I were you," Natasha said as she stood up. "You'll be surprised. They can make the right choices sometimes."

With that, she took the plate of sandwiches Bruce had prepared and went to bring it to Clint. Lara, meanwhile, directed her gaze down to the countertop. Bruce had finished making the fried egg sandwich while the conversation had been going on. Gently, he pushed the plate in front of her.

"Eat up," he said. "If you're still hungry, I can make more."

"Thanks," she said before she started slowly picking at her sandwich. It was silent for a while before she felt the need to speak up again. "You're not going to ask me what that was about?" Bruce shook his head.

"I don't need to know unless you want me to know," he said. "And you don't."

"I don't want anyone to know," Lara said. "Thank you for respecting that."

"You're welcome." Bruce couldn't help but notice the way Lara smiled a little bit. It made him smile, too.

"What's in the soup?" Lara asked. "Is there anything I can't eat?"

"I don't think so," Bruce said. "You can have chicken, right?"

"As long as it's not processed, I'm good," Lara said.

"Alright then," Bruce said. "One bowl of soup, coming up."

* * *

**Tuesday, January 24th, 2012**

The light of morning had started brightening the gray sky when Steve woke up. The first thing he did was turn over to make sure that Tony was still in the bed with him. To Steve's relief, Tony was still there and snoring softly; peacefully asleep. Thankful, Steve got closer to Tony and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He heard Tony softly mumble the word "sure," before snuggling closer and seemingly falling back to sleep. Steve stroked his hair gently and listened to Tony's calm, even breathing.

They spent much of the afternoon and night sleeping and chatting. The conversations weren't too heavy – given that neither of them felt like crying again – just about whatever came to mind. No one disturbed them. Natasha came in to give them their dinner, but she didn't say much and made herself scarce as fast as possible. It was just them being quiet and holding each other close. After the day they had, it was the kind of peaceful night they deserved. It was nice.

Despite how wonderful it was to wake up with his boyfriend beside him, Steve couldn't help but let his thoughts drift. They mostly consisted of concern for Tony, though. Honestly, he didn't know what to do or how to help him. It was clear that Tony's problems went beyond alcoholism and it wasn't as simple as stopping him from drinking. In all honesty, Steve wasn't even sure if his problems were even fixable. He hated the idea that Tony might be stuck this way, hurting himself forever, but that seemed like the only option compared to forcing him to behave the way others wanted him to, and Steve already knew that option wouldn't work out.

For a moment, Steve wondered if seeing a doctor would help, but he quickly threw that idea out. Although, yes, he was aware that the understanding of mental health and mental health treatment had advanced phenomenally in the last sixty years, the small, reptilian preservation instinct in the back of his head was screaming at him that he would be putting Tony in danger by doing that. He tried with all of his might to push it away, but when you have the memory of your mother tearfully describing a frontal lobotomy performed on a child in your head, it was kind of hard to quell that fear.

A war to formed within Steve; part of him wanted to help Tony get better, and the other part wanted to protect him no matter what. It was chaos, and all he could do was hold Tony tighter as the debate raged on in his head. It was so intense that Steve almost missed the door.

Since he didn't want to wake up or let go of Tony, he chose to ignore it. However, the person on the other side of the door appeared to be impatient as they took the lack of response as a go-ahead to enter the room. It was Natasha's form that slipped around the door.

"Oh, she said softly enough not to wake Tony, but loud enough for Steve to be able to hear her. "You're awake."

"Yup." Steve glanced at Tony to make sure his speaking hadn't roused him. Luckily, he was still asleep. "What's going on?"

"Can we talk outside?" Natasha asked. "I don't want to wake him up."

Steve looked down at the sleeping man in his arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Again, Tony muttered something but didn't otherwise stir as Steve reluctantly slipped out of the space beside him. He followed Natasha out the door and gently shut it behind him. He quickly spotted Bruce, Lara, and Clint already sitting in the living area. He raised his eyebrows.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Sit down. We have something we need to talk about." Natasha went to the living area and sat down in one of the armchairs. Steve sat on the empty couch and looked around. He made sure to make eye contact with every single person.

"What's going on?" Natasha took a deep breath before speaking up.

"We have a plan," she said. "Of what to do about Tony. We want you on the same page."

"Alright," Steve said warily. "What's this plan?"

"First of all, I just want to make it clear that we're not going to confront Tony," Natasha said. "This isn't going to be an intervention. It's completely up to Tony whether he wants to talk to us and we're not going to do anything other than ask what we can do to help him. That's all."

"Whoa," Steve said. "Back up. What's an intervention?"

"It's like a surprise party, but instead of cake and presents, you get yelled at and sent to treatment in Florida." Lara's explanation only served to confuse Steve further. Bruce sighed.

"When someone has a drug or alcohol addiction, sometimes the friends and loved ones of the addicted person will gather to confront them and urge them to change their behavior," he explained. "When this happens, it's called an intervention."

"They have a whole TV show about it on A&E," Clint added. "Be warned, though; it's not for the faint of heart."

"But that's not what we're going to be doing," Natasha said. "I cannot stress that enough." Steve nodded.

"Alright then," he said. "What **are** you going to be doing?"

"Exactly what I said," Natasha said. "Ask him what we can do to help him." Steve raised an eyebrow.

"That's it?" he questioned.

"That's it," Natasha assured.

"We're not going to force Stark to do anything he doesn't want to do," Clint said. "If he says no… Hell, if he doesn't even want to speak with us, we'll leave. Pressuring him into help isn't going to help."

"So, this isn't like an intervention at all," Lara said. "You can't walk away from an intervention. This is more like a… Prevention."

"Prevention?" Steve questioned.

"Yeah," Lara. "We're just going to ask him what we can do to **prevent** him from hurting himself. That's all."

"And you're **only** going to be asking him what we can do to help?" Steve asked.

"Yes," Natasha said. "I **promise** that's all we're going to do." Steve took a deep breath. Although admittedly he was at a loss as to what he could do to help Tony as well, he couldn't help but be a little hesitant.

"What makes you so sure that Tony will know what to do?" Natasha shrugged.

"He might not," she said. "But the least we can do is ask." Steve nodded in agreement.

"Alright," he said. "I'll talk to him about it when he wakes up."

* * *

Tony reached over to the other side of the bed. He found it warm but empty and frowned. He was going to get up and look around when he felt a hand softly come down on his shoulder.

"Hey." Tony's lips quirked up at the sound of Steve's voice. "I didn't know you were up."

"I am," Tony muttered as he moved his arm out of the way. "Come here."

Steve obeyed and slid into the spot next to Tony. He smiled as he pulled Steve into his arms. Steve pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Hi," he said gently.

"Hey," Tony responded in a soft, sleep-laden tone.

"How do you feel?" Tony frowned.

"My head hurts," he admitted. "But other than that, I'm just tired." He had spent most of the night waking up, realizing he still had a headache and then forcing himself to fall back to sleep. Rationally, he knew he was hungover, and that wouldn't work, but at the same time, there was a small part of him that hoped that if he just kept his eyes closed for just a little bit longer, the pain would go away. The one bit of comfort that he could find was that this wasn't nearly as painful as the headaches he had gotten from aplastic anemia if that could be considered a comfort.

Tony felt a hand brush against his forehead. He opened his eyes to see nothing but concern and worry in Steve's.

"Do you feel like you're going to throw up?" Tony almost shook his head, but thankfully for the sake of his aching skull, he thought better of it.

"No," he said. "Not yet."

"Good," Steve said. "Do you need anything?"

"Just you," Tony said, shifting closer to Steve. Steve wrapped his arms tighter around him.

"You've got me," he assured. "You've got me."

For a while, they just laid there, enjoying each other's company. However, something substantial was left hanging in the air. Tony could feel the tension and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Are you still awake?"

_Crap._ Tony hoped Steve didn't notice that he winced at the question.

"Yes," he said slowly.

"I want to run something by you," Steve said. "Can you hear me out?" Tony slowly let a breath out through his nose.

_Don't think the worst, _he told himself. _Just from the way he phrased it, it doesn't sound like he wants to break up with you. Relax. You're fine._

"Sure," he said. "What is it?"

"The others want to talk to you." Tony opened his eyes and looked up at Steve.

"Okay," he said.

"Do you want to talk to them?"

Tony hesitated. He couldn't imagine any conversation with them going well, particularly with Lara and Romanoff. While Romanoff had already apologized, Tony was worried that she could still be holding a grudge. As for Lara, Romanoff had told him that she wanted to apologize, but given how scared she looked the day before, he found it hard to believe. He bit his lip.

"Depends," he said. "Why do they want to talk to me?"

"They want to talk to you about yesterday." Tony squeezed his eyes shut.

"Yup," he said. "That's what I figured."

"No one's going to get upset or mad at you," Steve tried to assure.

"Of course, they aren't," Tony said, rolling his eyes behind his lids.

"They aren't," Steve said. "They just want to ask you how to help you, so you don't get drunk and wander off again."

"You honestly think I know that?" Tony felt Steve shrug.

"Maybe not," Steve said. "But any insight you could give as to what you were thinking, and feel would be appreciated. Plus, it would probably help to talk about it. What do you think?"

"I don't know." That was the truth of it. Tony didn't know what to think. Apart of him wanted to believe that the others wanted to help, but another part of him – a piece that had been broken and stepped on way too many times – was telling him not to believe it; not to trust them. He didn't know which one to listen to; which one was right.

"Would it help if I made you a promise?" Tony raised his eyebrows.

"What kind of a promise?" he asked.

"If you choose to talk to the others," Steve said. "I promise that if things get too intense or if you get overwhelmed, we can come back to the bedroom and you won't have to talk or interact with them for the rest of the day. Deal?"

Tony had to think about it for a moment. Although the idea of facing a group of people he was sure hated him was on principal unappealing, Steve's proposal did ease a lot of his hesitation. If things got bad, they'd leave. That assurance and show of support were touching. To add to that, a set of words came back to his mind.

_"Everyone can always be better. You need to try." _Tony swallowed hard, laced the fingers of his right hand between Steve's and looked him straight in the eye.

"Alright," he said. "I'll try."

"You'll try?" Tony nodded.

"Let's do it." Tony pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Steve's lips before he started to get up. Steve raised his eyebrows and put a hand on Tony's back.

"Wait, you mean now?" he asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Better to just get it over with, right?" Steve shrugged.

"Alright," he said. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure," Tony said.

"Let me just give everyone a head's up." Steve got up off the bed and started walking towards the door.

"They're already here?" Tony asked.

"Yeah," Steve said.

"Have they been waiting for me to wake up?"

"Not for too long, I don't think," Steve said. "Bruce and Natasha stayed in the living room overnight last night, but Lara and Clint have only been here for about twenty minutes."

"They stayed overnight?" Tony questioned.

"Yeah," Steve said. "Just in case something happened."

"Like if I tried to ruin everyone's day by sneaking out again?" Tony's grim tone caused Steve to frown.

"Not necessarily," Steve said. "I think they were genuinely concerned." Tony looked down. He highly doubted that. "Are you coming?" Tony nodded.

He heard the door creak open as he set his feet down on the floor. A wave of pain rippled through his brain. If he wasn't feeling the effects of the hangover before, he was now. With a frown, Tony pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around himself. Only then did he start to move to join Steve, entwining his hand with his own when he reached him.

The others were already seated in the living area when he walked out. Clint and Natasha were sitting in two of the armchairs while Bruce and Lara had the loveseat, leaving the couch open for him and Steve. Steve took the lead in bringing them to their seats and with everyone's eyes on him, he felt almost like a bride being led down the aisle by her father on her wedding day, only instead of a beautiful husband, he would be directed to the slaughter. It made his stomach churn weirdly. …Or was that the hangover, too? He couldn't be sure.

Reaching the couch, Tony and Steve sat down with hands still clasped together. Lara, Bruce, Clint, and Natasha all exchanged looks. Through some form of unspoken communication, they decided that Nat would speak first.

"Before we start," she said, making eye contact with Tony. "Let's make it known that you can stop the conversation and walk away at any time. No one is going to be mad at you. Do you understand?" Tony nodded, clenching his teeth against the pain.

"Yes," he managed to get out. The only one who seemed to notice his pain was Steve. He let go of his hand to put his own against the small of his back.

"Good," Natasha said.

"Um," Lara spoke up carefully, he eyes darting from Tony to Natasha. "Can I say something first?"

"Sure," Natasha said. "Go ahead."

Lara brushed her hair out of her face before settling her hands down to rest in her lap. The way she looked up at the ceiling – as if she were searching for the words of God himself – told Tony she was carefully considering the words she was about to say. She only did this when she had something important to say and wanted to be sure that her English was as clear and precise as it could be. When she felt sure of herself, she looked Tony directly in the eye.

"I wanted to apologize," she said slowly, carefully enouncing each syllable. "When you were drunk at the gala, I should not have screamed at you, and I especially should not have grabbed you and dragged you away. That was abusive and wrong, and for that, I am sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you at all."

"No," Tony assured. "You didn't. You're good. I accept your apology, though I wouldn't go so far as to say that you were abusive."

"But you did," Lara said. "When it happened, you called it abuse. That's why I stopped and let you go." Tony winced a bit at the revelation.

_You told an abuse victim she was abusive. Nice one, Stark._

"Is that why you were crying?" Bruce asked Lara.

"Kind of," she admitted. "It sent me back to a bad place."

"Listen," Tony said. "I was drunk. Nothing I said to you or about you meant anything. Understand?" Lara nodded.

"Yes," she said.

"I'm sorry I said that to you," Tony said. "That was wrong, and I shouldn't have said it." Lara shrugged.

"People have said worse to me in my life," she said. "That doesn't even make my top ten. You don't need to worry about it, and I accept your apology." Tony let out a breath of relief before sucking it back in again. He knew that wasn't all he had to apologize for.

"I know I have to say I'm sorry," he said. "For yesterday, the day before, everything in between… But…" He frowned. "I can't. I mean I can say the words, but I feel like if I said them, they'd be meaningless."

"Because you wouldn't mean them?" Natasha's tone wasn't accusatory; more curious.

"No," Tony said. "I'd mean them when I say them, but…"

"But what?" Tony could feel Steve's hand rubbing up and down his back. He took a moment to remind himself of Steve's promise before taking a deep breath.

"I don't think…" Be rubbed his hands together and looked down at his lap. "I think… I think we all know that if I apologize, it's not going to mean anything because I'm just going to do the same thing again. I mean, I don't want to do the same thing again – this headache is enough to tell me that what I did was bad – but I know that eventually, I'm going to do it again. It's inevitable."

"How can it be inevitable?" Lara asked. "You're in control of your actions."

"Really?" Tony said. "Because it doesn't feel like it."

"How so?" Bruce asked. Tony frowned. He tried to think of the proper words to explain it but came up empty. He felt everyone's eyes on him, and Steve's hand paused at his shoulder to give it a comforting squeeze.

"I don't know," he said. "I really can't explain it. It's me, but it's not me at the same time. Does that make any sense?"

"A little bit." Tony couldn't tell if Natasha was patronizing him or was being genuine. He found himself hoping for the latter instead of accepting the former. "Maybe it would help if you told us what you usually think before you start drinking."

"I don't know," he said. "It's different every time."

"Well, what were you thinking before you started drinking yesterday?" Lara asked. "Give us one example. Maybe it will give us a helpful clue."

"Uh…" He felt Steve's thumb gently start to rub circles through the back of his t-shirt.

"It's okay," he heard him whisper. The thing was, Tony wasn't hesitating because it was stressful for him. However, he did find it in himself to give an honest answer to the question.

"I was thinking 'Jesus Christ, why did Barton have to scare the crap out of me?'" Everyone looked confused. "The murder prank he pulled? He made me and Conroy think that someone killed him for drug money?" Lara snapped her fingers as the memory clicked.

"Oh yeah," she said before turning to Clint. "What the fuck was up with that?" Clint looked around the room with wide eyes.

"I was bored," he said. "I couldn't sleep…"

"So, you fake your murder?" Lara questioned.

"I…" Clint utterly looked at a loss for words. Natasha took that as her cue to cut in.

"You know what; this is another discussion for a different time," she said.

"He could apologize for that, though," Lara said.

"Didn't I do that at the time?" Clint asked.

"Not really," Lara said.

"Shit…" He looked between Lara and Tony. "Listen, I'm sorry for doing that. That wasn't a nice joke. I shouldn't have scared you like that, and I'm sorry if that's what pushed you over the edge." Tony sighed.

"A lot of things pushed me over the edge," Tony said. "It was a multi-tiered cliff. Every time something happened, I'd fall to the next level of the abyss. That was just the event that started it. After that happened, I had some of the free mimosas the bar was handing out…"

"The bar was handing out free alcohol **that** early in the morning?" Steve questioned. "Are they crazy or is early morning drinking acceptable now in the twenty-first century?"

"It is not," Bruce assured. "Most normal places don't hand out free alcohol to just anyone, especially during the breakfast hour."

"They cost about twenty-five bucks." Everyone looked at Lara. "I saw the little label card. I didn't drink any of it. Otherwise, we'd be having an entirely different conversation right now at the nearest hospital."

"Twenty-five bucks?" Tony questioned. "Are you sure?"

"Well, it was some ridiculous number," Lara said. "Twenty-five is the lowest I'd wager. I remember seeing the card and starting to bitch about greedy assholes."

"And you just took it?" Steve asked Tony. "You didn't pay for it?" Tony tried to think back.

"I don't think so…" He sighed and waved it off. "I'll take it up with the concierge when we check out."

"I wish you the best of luck with that, my friend," Clint muttered to himself.

"That aside," Natasha said. "What else happened?"

"Uh…" Tony kept his eyes on his feet. He knew he wouldn't be able to stand the disappointed look on Steve's face when he revealed what he did next. "I poured a mimosa into my flask."

"You have a flask?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Tony admitted.

"Where is it?" Tony frowned.

"No idea," He said. "Last, I remember it was in the inner pocket of my blazer, but I have no idea what happened to that."

"You left it in the bathroom," Steve said as he started to get up. "I hung it up. I'll go get rid of it." He could hear Steve walk back to the bedroom.

"It's empty," Tony said. "At least, I think it is."

"It's still probably best to have the temptation out of the way." Tony sighed. As ashamed as he was, he had to admit that Steve was probably right. The conversation remained completely paused until Steve returned and sat down next to Tony. "It's gone." Tony nodded despite the pain.

"When else did you drink that day?" Natasha asked. Tony shrugged.

"After the Everhart interview," he said. "A couple of the others, the Q&A session… It didn't get bad until the gala, though."

"The interviews and the gala," Natasha repeated.

"Yeah," Tony said.

"Both of those were pretty high-stress environments." Tony shrugged.

"I guess," he said.

"Do you think maybe that could be a potential trigger?" Tony took a deep breath as he thought.

"I don't know," he said. "I guess it's a possibility?"

"So, we just have to keep you from getting stressed," Clint concluded.

"I don't feel like that's entirely it," Tony said.

"It probably isn't," Natasha said. "But it's a start, and it's something we can work with for now. We'll spend the whole day relaxing. No going anywhere or doing anything or talking to anyone. Sound good?" Tony finally got the strength to look up. No one looked mad, but he still couldn't bring himself to look at Steve.

"Sounds boring," he said. "What are we supposed to do? Sit here and stare at the wall?"

"We have pay per view," Clint pointed out. "And probably thousands of movies at our disposal."

"I could go to Target and get some stuff to keep us entertained," Lara offered. "You know, like games or whatever."

"Games?" Tony questioned. "What, are we nine?"

"And just like that you've lost out on your chance to get a free Nintendo Wii," Lara said.

"Too bad, considering I already have three." Lara narrowed her eyes at him.

"Don't get video games, Lara," Bruce said. "We shouldn't be screwing around with the configurations of the hotel's TV. Stick to board games."

"Got it," Lara said as she got up and started heading for the door. Tony felt Steve's hand return to his back.

"Hey," he said. "Are you okay?" Slowly, Tony looked up at Steve and was relieved to see nothing but concern and affection in his eyes.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Steve said, wrapping his arm around Tony's shoulder and pulling him into a sideways hug. "Is this helping?" Tony shut his eyes and took a few breaths in and out, trying to relish in both his boyfriend's company and the fact that conversation went much better than he ever could have dreamed.

"Yeah," he said. "I think so."

Natasha then plopped down beside them to get a better view of the TV.

"So, what do you want to watch?" Tony looked up at the ceiling as he thought about it.

"Go with a classic," he said. "After all, some people still have some catching up to do." Tony's lips quirked up as he caught Steve's smile out of the corner of his eye.

"Alright," Natasha said. "A classic it is."

* * *

**Thank you to mfaerie32 on FFN for the review! It really means a lot! :)**

**Ohohoho, do I have a lot of feelings about this topic. Honestly, I'm pretty happy with this chapter as it gave me a creative means to vent. I don't like the TV show _Intervention_. There are a lot of obvious reasons; it profits off of people's addictions and mental illnesses; it emphasizes the drama and doesn't do much to use the platform to educate the masses about addiction; etc. My biggest problem with it is that it's entire premise hinges on the idea that interventions are helpful when the truth of the matter is that there is little evidence to support that. To quote Joel L. Young, MD writing for _Psychology Today,_ "there's little data on the effectiveness of interventions, perhaps because effectiveness is difficult to define. Addicts are more likely to seek treatment when they undergo an intervention, but interventions don't affect the outcome of the treatment itself. If an addict seeks treatment without being fully committed to a life of sobriety - as some might to in response to the overwhelming peer pressure of an intervention - he or she may be less likely to get better." Other sources seem to agree on this.**

**"Although individuals who undergo a Johnson Intervention are most likely to enter treatment, the power of the Johnson Intervention to retain clients deteriorates [throughout] treatment [...] relapse rates across the five types of referral ranged from 38% to 79%." - Bary Loneck, James A. Garret, and Steven M. Banks, "The Johnson Intervention and Relapse During Outpatient Treatment" _The American Journal of Drug and Alcohol Abuse Volume 22, 1996, Issue 3_, Pages 363-375.**

**However, several sources tout the effectiveness of interventions but do stress that it should only be used as a last-ditch resort and that it's down to the addict to help themselves.**

**"While many interventions are instrumental in nudging [an addict to] treatment, they are not always effective for everyone. It is important to take a look at all aspects of your loved one's situation to understand if an intervention is a good option as many factors can play a role in how one unfolds, which can never be accurately predicted. [...] If a person's life is in jeopardy, an intervention may be the only option you feel you have left. [...] Typically, an intervention is a last-try effort for an addict who has consistently refused to get help."**

**Also, I feel the TV show has also encouraged people to try to stage an intervention without the help of a licensed psychologist or counselor, especially since there's this warning on the Wikipedia page for interventions; "Sometimes direct interventions involve physical force [...] to capture or confine the targeted person. In such cases, the intervention may be illegal because it deprives the person of liberty without due process of law." I think we all can agree without even looking it up that's not happening at a professional intervention.**

**Is there a reason I feel so passionate about this topic? Well, yes, sadly, there is. IRL, I have someone in my life with a serious addiction issue. It's to the point where I want to cut this person out of my life completely, but I can't because I live on their property and do not have the financial means to move out. Several people in my family have suggested holding an intervention for this person. However, I already know that's not going to work. This person denies that they have a problem, has refused help consistently, and has even directly stated that if we hold an intervention for them, they'll never want anything to do with us again. (Which is where that line from Tony comes from.) For me, if an intervention were to take place, then I'd be out of a place to live, and I think this might be regardless of if I was directly involved in planning the intervention or not. Besides, I'm confident that they're too far gone at this point for an intervention to even be useful. The only way this person's going to stop is if they die, which would be kind of sad if it wasn't for the fact that the person that they were had died years ago.**

**So yes, it was vital for me to show the other Avengers wanting to help, but not wanting to push Tony into doing anything he didn't want to do. At the same time, Tony needed to be receptive to the idea of getting help. I think he's getting there. I still don't think he's willing to admit that it's a problem yet, but I think the Avengers showing their support along with what Carol said to him will give him a push in the right direction. Though, he might need another small push or two to commit entirely. Until then, just knowing he has people who are willing to help and support him will probably be enough.**

**Wow, this author's note is lengthy and depressing. On a happier note, September 24th is the date I've set as Lara's birthday. For those curious as to how old she is, I'll say she's thirty-six at the time this chapter takes place. You can figure out how old she is in 2019 from there.**

**Remember kids, drugs kill.**

* * *

**Originally uploaded to FFN on 9/24/19. **


	18. The State of the Union

**So, there are some real-life public figures that make cameo appearances in this chapter. I don't have their explicit permission to use their image in any way and if they or someone who works with them has a problem with this, please DM me from an official account over Twitter. My handle is MewWinx96 and I will remove any reference to them within this chapter if asked.**

* * *

**Tuesday, January 24th, 2012**

"That is not how you spell 'vector.'" Lara raised her eyebrows, but otherwise looked unsurprised at Barton's challenge.

"Oh?" she said. "And how is that supposed to be spelled?"

"V-E-C-T-E-R," Barton spelled. "Everybody knows that." Lara's face remained expressionless and she kept her gaze focused on him.

"Natasha?"

"She's right, Clint," she declared. "V-E-C-T-O-R." Barton groaned as Lara stole another thirty-six points.

"How are you so good at this game?" Barton asked. "English isn't even your first language."

"I read it better than I speak it," Lara said. "Always have and probably always will."

"Whatever," Barton said. "If this game was in ASL, I'd kill." Romanoff made a few gestures with her hands that made Barton's face sour. "Shut up."

Lara had come back from Target with a small plethora of board games including Scrabble, which she, Barton, Tony, and Steve were currently playing. Romanoff was acting as referee while Bruce was sitting this game out as everyone agreed it would only be fair to have one super-genius playing at a time. Though, it was becoming clear that Lara could probably easily compete with both Bruce and Tony at the same time. She didn't play the most difficult words, but she knew how to take advantage of the double/triple letter/word squares. She hadn't scored anything less than twenty points and was battling Tony for the lead. Steve was in third place while Barton was very decidedly last, as it seemed he was a phonetic speller. They were on their third game in about two hours, not that anyone had noticed the passage of time yet.

"Tony, it's your turn." Tony glanced down at the letters in his tray. All he had were the letters O, T, T, O, I and an extremely cluttered board to work with. If "K-I" was considered a word, maybe…

His train of thought was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"I'll get it," Lara declared, swiftly getting to her feet.

"You don't need to get up," Bruce said. "I can get it." Lara shook her head.

"Nah, my legs are tired anyways from sitting on them. Might as well stretch them out." Crossing the room with ease, Lara had the door open within moments. The shocked note in her voice was palpable. "Freeman? What are you…?"

"I need you to call the police," Freeman said without preamble. Everyone's heads turned in their direction.

"What?" Lara said, taking a step back to allow Freeman to come in. "What happened?" The man didn't elaborate; just spoke over her.

"I need you to call the police," Freeman said. "Salinas can't do it; it has to be you."

"Who? What? Slow down! What happened?" At this point, everyone had gotten up and were approaching the two. Freeman took a deep breath, collecting himself before proceeding to explain.

"Stark is missing." The room fell dead silent. A deadpan look came across Lara's face as she responded.

"No, he's not." Freeman's face scrunched with confusion.

"This is serious, Conroy," he said. "I'm not joking. You need to call the police right away."

"I'm not joking either," Lara said. "He's not missing."

"I'm right here." For the first time, Freeman took notice of Tony, who was standing at the back of the gathered group. His expression was one of shock and relief.

"Where were you?" he asked. "We couldn't find you anywhere."

"Uh, here?" Tony said. "Where else would I be?"

"We thought you wandered off," Freeman said. "Salinas had the RCMP out looking for you."

"The Royal Canadian Mounted Police?" Barton questioned.

"Of course not," Freeman said. "The Reconnaissance and Covert Missionary Practice."

"Missionary?" Barton questioned.

"Salinas?" Lara narrowed her eyes.

"This wouldn't have to do with the Peoples Unity Church, now would it?" Romanoff raised an eyebrow, but Freeman seemed relaxed at the mention of the group.

"You've heard of us?" Romanoff and Barton exchanged looks.

"Us?"

"Are you implying that you're a member of this group?" Freeman frowned.

"I'm not implying it," he said. "I'm stating it. Yes, I'm a member of the Peoples Unity Church. What's the problem with that?"

"There will be no problem," Romanoff said. "As long as you tell us why Salinas is after Stark." A look of disgust came across Freeman's face.

"He's not after Stark," he said. "Yesterday he found Stark on the side of the road and brought him back to his house for his own safety. He walked away for a minute and when he returned, he found Stark was gone. He just wants to know that Stark is safe." Tony listened to all of this with an increasingly confused look on his face.

"I don't remember any of this," he said. "This happened yesterday?"

"Yesterday morning." Tony frowned. All he could remember were Carol, Jessica, and Fury at the safe house. Nothing came to mind with the name Salinas, but it was clear it concerned the others.

"Yesterday morning," Romanoff repeated. "Like around the same time we told you Stark was missing, and you completely brushed us off?" Freeman huffed.

"I thought he was safe," he said. "I thought there was nothing to worry about."

"We were worried, though. Why didn't you say anything?" Tony stared up at Steve as he placed a hand on his chest, as if ready to push Tony behind him at the first sign of danger.

"I would have informed you when Salinas was ready for you," Freeman defended. Tony caught the roll of Romanoff's eyes.

"Like we honestly believe that," she said.

"Well, it's not like he kidnapped him," Freeman protested.

"Well, he kind of did." Freeman shot Barton a look. "Stark was drunk yesterday. You know he was, right?"

"Salinas might have said that he believed him to be impaired, yes." The already tense situation seemingly cranked up ten notches with that one statement.

"So, he took a drunk man back to his house without his consent?" Barton questioned.

"No, he took a distressed man back to his home to get him help," Freeman said. "It was fifteen degrees outside yesterday during the **warmest** part of the day. Stark had no shoes or jacket. He did what most normal people would do in that situation."

"No," Romanoff said. "Most **normal** people would have called 911 or taken him directly to the hospital. No one takes a distressed person back to their house, especially if they're intoxicated."

"And if someone is missing and someone else knows where they are, then they're supposed to **say something**," Barton pointed out.

"And if someone 'wanders off'" Lara said, making a point to use air quotes. "Again, standard procedure is to call the police. Hell, in some cases skipping the police and going straight to the FBI would probably be the better decision."

"Alright, I understand I made a mistake. I'm sorry." Despite the apology, he didn't drop the condescending tone. "I assure you, though, Congressman Salinas' intentions were good. He only wanted to help Stark in his time of need."

"I didn't want or need his help, though," Tony said. "Even if I don't have a clue who you're talking about or what happened, I know that much."

"Regardless," Freeman said. "There is now a search that needs to be called off. If you can leave me to do that, I'll leave you to get ready."

"Get ready?" Lara questioned. "Get ready for what?" Freeman gave her an astonished look.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said. "The State of the Union Address? The whole reason we came down here in the first place?"

"Yeah, we're not going to that," Lara said. "I've already worked it out with Pepper. We don't have to go."

"No," Freeman said. "You **need** to go." He gestured around the room. "All of you skipped out on your second round of interviews yesterday. Do you know how that looks?"

"Like we had an unforeseen emergency going on," Romanoff offered.

"It makes you look weak," Freeman said. "Untrustworthy; undependable. That is the last image the American public needs to have of the Avengers right now. Not attending the State of the Union will only solidify that image in their minds. Do you want that?"

The Avengers fell silent. They all knew how important it was to have the trust of the people of the United States – as well as the rest of the world. If they didn't have the public's trust, the consequences could be deadly. However, Lara wasn't an Avenger and as such didn't have those kinds of thoughts weighing on her mind. So, she still tried to argue otherwise.

"No," she said. "Tony's not well. He can't go in front of the cameras like this. It would harm the public's perception of the Avengers, possibly more so than if they didn't go."

"And you have how much experience in public relations, Miss Conroy?" Lara groaned.

"Next to none," she said. "But I'm not stupid. I do know how the media thinks. Tony's pale and he's struggling to walk. Anyone can see that plain as day. Force him to go out there and the vultures will pick him apart."

Freeman shifted his gaze to Tony, who wasn't going to argue with anything Lara had said. All of it was true. His toes still stung from the frostbite and although he hadn't been too sick so far, he kept expecting his hangover to hit him at full force at any moment. He was in no condition to be locked in a room with countless politicians and the media and be forced to sit pretty and listen to the President give a speech. He was certain of that. At the same time, though, he also acknowledged the position not going would put the Avengers in and was unwilling to argue against that either. Freeman, seemingly realizing that he wasn't going to be getting any help from Tony, turned to address the entire group.

"Listen, none of you can sit this one out," he said. "I'm telling you as your public relations agent; it will do nothing but damage your reputations if you don't attend the State of the Union. I don't care if you're sick. I don't care if you're hurt. I don't care if you're **dead**. You need to be there, end of discussion. Now if you all will excuse me; I have a phone call to make. I expect to see you all in the lobby, dressed and ready to go by eight o'clock."

Freeman then turned and walked out. Everyone stood there for a moment in a shocked, yet awkward silence.

"Well, so much for the nice guy act," Barton commented. Someone sighed in agreement.

"I hate to admit it," Romanoff said. "But he does have a point."

"You can't be serious," Lara said.

"I am," Romanoff said.

"How?" Lara questioned. "How can you agree with him knowing Tony's condition?"

"I don't agree with him," Romanoff said. "I'm just saying he has a point. The public perception of the Avengers is probably already bad given that we skipped yesterday. Missing the State of the Union… We might not recover from that."

"We won't," Tony said. "Which is why we have to go."

"No!" Both Steve and Lara said at the same time.

"Just hear me out…"

"No," Lara said again.

"Tony, you're too sick to go," Steve said. "You might feel okay now, but eventually you're going to get worse and there's no telling when." Tony frowned. Clearly, they were thinking along same lines when it came to that.

"I know," he said. "But I've made my way through public appearances while extremely ill before. It'll be a walk in the park."

"A walk in the park," Lara scoffed.

"Tony, do you understand what's going on with your body right now?" Bruce asked. "You haven't drunk anything in over twenty-four hours now. Considering how much alcohol you in took before, it's only a matter of time before you start suffering from withdrawal symptoms."

"I know," Tony said. "But I can push though it. I've been sick before – hell, I've been dying before – and I've still been able to put in public appearances without anyone being the wiser."

"I noticed," Romanoff pointed out.

"And you injected me with an unknown substance and forced me to save myself." Romanoff's face fell.

"I really need to talk to you about that when you're sober." Tony's brow creased in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. Lara sighed.

"Whatever it is, it can wait until later," she said. "What matters now is that you're not going to the State of the Union. I'm not going to let you."

"You're going to have to, though," Tony said.

"I won't," Lara said.

"But you will," Tony said. "Because it's not just me who has to go, it's all of us. You heard what Freeman said. The Avengers need to be seen showing support for the American public and the people we failed to protect in New York. All of us must go. Not some of us and certainly not none of us; all of us."

"Tony," Steve said softly. "You're sick. You shouldn't **have** to do anything."

"You're right," Tony said. "**I **don't have to do this. **We** need to do this. Otherwise, we can kiss our reputations and the public's support goodbye." Steve's face hardened, but he nodded anyway.

"You sure you can do this?" he asked.

"I wouldn't be saying it if I didn't think I could," Tony lied.

"And that's the truth?" Tony swallowed hard.

"Yes." He could see it in Steve's eyes that he didn't believe him. However, he could also see that Steve knew he wasn't going to drop it and the most he could do would be to stay by his side in case something went wrong. Tony hated putting Steve in that position, but for the sake of the Avengers, it had to be done.

"Alright," he relented. "But you're not leaving my side the entire time."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Captain," Tony said as his lips rose up.

"You're not leaving my sight, either," Romanoff interjected. "In fact, if you show any indication of being physically ill, I'm extracting you from the situation ASAP. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, ma'am," Tony responded. "And might I thank you for ruining the moment?" Romanoff rolled her eyes.

"We don't have time for any moments," she said. "It's almost four-thirty. We need to be ready by eight. You can flirt with Cap later." She then turned and started walking towards the door, throwing a quick "come on" over her shoulder. Bruce and Clint followed with Lara bringing up the rear. That was, until she turned back to look at Tony.

"I still think this is a horrible idea," she said.

"It probably is," Tony relented. "But we have no other choice." Lara nodded weakly.

"Right," she said. "Well, you better get to it." She then walked out, shutting the door behind her. Tony turned to Steve, gently taking his hand.

"Are you mad at me?" Steve shook his head.

"No," he said. "Just worried."

"I can do this," Tony assured. "Trust me, I can." Steve nodded.

"Just stay with me." Tony smiled and brought Steve's hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

"I can do that," he promised. "I will."

* * *

The car ride was tense. The ire between the Avengers and Freeman was palpable. The person sitting closest to him was Lara and she had made a point of scooching so far away from him that she was practically on top of Bruce. (Which Bruce, Tony astutely noticed, didn't seem to mind.) Barton kept glaring daggers at Freeman and everything in Romanoff's posture screamed that she was just barely holding herself back from launching herself through the limo's privacy shade and forcing the vehicle to turn around. Tony, meanwhile, stared straight ahead. With his hand in Steve's, he kept repeating the same mantra in his head.

_I can do this. I can do this. I can do this._

Although Tony hadn't thrown up yet, his headache still hadn't subsided. He was a lot paler than he had been earlier and Steve had noted as they were leaving that his hands were trembling something fierce. Withdrawal symptoms were setting in. Tony could feel it through his entire body. However, he was determined to power through it. Just if he could keep telling himself that, he'd be able to do it.

The limo started to slow down and the flashes of cameras started to seep through the tinted windows. Lara's mouth became a hard line.

"We're here," she stated grimly. Tony felt Steve squeeze his hand. Tony looked right into his blue eyes and still saw hesitance.

"You're still sure about this?" The fearful knot in his stomach said otherwise, but Tony still nodded.

"I'm sure," he said.

"Everybody ready?" Lara asked. Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. Even though it was nighttime, those camera flashes could be blinding and given his headache, he figured he best come prepared.

The door opened and Steve was the first one to walk out with Tony following close behind him. As Tony was halfway out the door, though, he felt another hand grab his free one urgently. He looked behind him to see Romanoff holding his hand and reaching back to grab Bruce's. Tony was perplexed as to why she would do this until he looked back at Steve and realized their hands were still entwined.

_Oops._ He'd have to thank Romanoff for that save later. It was rather brilliant. Not only would it not look weird for him and Steve to be holding hands when they all were, it also solidified that image of unity they were talking about earlier. It was very symbolic. Tony would have to find out when her birthday was and make sure to get her something extra nice.

Luckily, Bruce and Barton caught on to what Romanoff was doing and joined hands before they even stepped out of the car. Once outside, the Avengers posed for the cameras for a moment before ascending the steps of the United States Capitol Building together. Since this wasn't a red-carpet event, the reporters remained solemnly silent as their cameras snapped away. Lara and Freeman followed behind them, standing as far apart as they possibly could with both of their gazes fixed forward. Tony glanced back at one point, smiling at Lara to reassure her that he was doing just fine. Lara smiled back, but he was sure it was gone as soon as he looked away.

At the top of the stairs, they had to release their hands so they could file through the doors. Once they were inside, Tony removed his sunglasses and took Steve and Romanoff's hands again. He was still having trouble walking and that was an easy way to have them help support him without anyone noticing.

A Secret Serviceman met with them and led them through the halls of the Capitol Building to their seats in the House Chamber. Steve took the first seat and Tony sat next to him with Romanoff, Barton, Bruce, and Lara following suit. It then became apparent that Freeman was no longer with them. Tony looked back to see if he had gotten caught up in the crowd and spotted him shaking hands with Congressman Salinas. Tony looked back and sighed. They didn't need him anyways.

They watched as all the pomp and circumstance of the State of the Union was carried out. The Deputy Sergeant at Arms loudly announced the arrival of Vice President Joe Biden and the members of the United States Senate. Biden and Speaker of the House John Boehner then named the members of the House and Senate who would be escorting the President into the House Chamber. Then the arrivals of several different important members of the cabinet were announced, and so on and so forth until the big event. A little after nine PM, the announcement was made.

"Mister Speaker," the House Sergeant at Arms said. "The President of the United States!"

There was a round of applause as President Barrack Obama walked into the room and it continued as he stopped to shake hands with several people as he made his way towards the Speaker's rostrum. Before he reached the Avengers, he made a point to hug the woman sitting next to Steve, which caused the applause to grow louder. He went back to handshakes when it got to Steve and continued down the line with the rest of the Avengers. As he shook their hands, he thanked them for attending and for their heroism that day in New York. He shook hands with a few more people before he reached the rostrum, at which point they all had to be seated. As Tony took his seat, Steve leaned in close to his ear.

"Who is the woman sitting next to me?" Tony had to lean forward to get a good look at the woman's face. When he did, his mind recalled a headline.

"That's Gabrielle Giffords," Tony explained. "She was a Congresswoman. Someone tried to kill her last year. I think she was shot." Steve's eyes went wide for a moment, but quickly relaxed into a look of sympathy as he turned to look at Giffords. If he wanted to say something, he couldn't, as the President began to speak.

The President started by addressing the events in New York and the United States' plans to recover from it, as well as working to create a better response to such events in the future. He also addressed the United States' military accomplishments against the Taliban and al-Qaeda, expressed their continued support for Israel and addressed the Arab Spring and the uprisings in Syria. Tony mostly tuned out after that. He could watch the highlights reel and get bullet points later. Instead, he found himself focusing on that mantra again.

_I can do this. I can do this. I can do this._

The room was absolutely broiling. Tony had to grip the arms of his chair to keep himself from trying to loosen his tie or roll up his sleeves. Several times he noticed Steve looking at him with worry out of the corner of his eye. He tried to smile as subtly as he could, just to reassure him, but he could never do it convincingly enough. For a moment, Tony wished he and Steve were out of the closet with their relationship, just so he could give him some proper reassurance without having to worry about what others would think of it. Maybe it was time to broach that subject with him…

The lurch of his stomach brought his mind back to present problems. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the arms of his chair tightly as a wave of nausea passed over him. A hand came gently down on his shoulder. He took the reassurance for a moment before he realized it was on the wrong side of him to be Steve's. As soon as the churning of his stomach died down, he looked over to his right to see Romanoff looking at him worriedly.

"Do you need to go?" she said quietly enough to avoid being heard. Tony shook his head. Romanoff clearly didn't like it but nodded anyway. "If it happens again, we're leaving."

"Roger that," Tony whispered back, knowing there was no way she was going to relent again. Through sheer force of will he tried to get his stomach to settle down. It wasn't entirely successful. There was probably nothing on Earth that would settle his stomach, at least until he was over the withdrawal symptoms, but that didn't mean that he still couldn't try.

Glancing over at his other side, he saw that Steve had taken his hand again. Although, he had pulled their hands out of clear view, Tony couldn't help but feel a tiny flutter in his chest at the display of affection. Steve had never done so much publicly before. It made Tony proud, especially since it stayed like that until the speech was over.

After what felt like hours, the President's speech finally came to an end. Everyone clapped as the President was escorted out of the chambers. Once he left, people started to stand and make their way to the exits. Romanoff stood first and gave Tony a hand in getting to his feet.

"How do you feel?" she leaned into his ear and asked.

"Like I'm about to crash hard," he admitted. "Tell Barton and Banner no screwing around. I need to get to the car now." Romanoff nodded and took a step to the side to pass the message on. Tony turned to tell Steve the same thing and saw something that made him smile.

Steve was shaking hands with Congresswoman Giffords. He couldn't hear exactly what he was saying, but whatever it was it made her smile. She slowly thanked Steve for whatever he said before turning back to join a man Tony assumed was her husband. When Steve turned back, Tony had to resist the urge to passionately kiss him right then and there.

"You're too sweet for your own good, do you know that?" Steve's face tinged red for a moment and he looked down, but Tony could still see the smile on his face.

"Yeah," he said. "I might have been told that before. Albeit in a different context."

"What kind of context?" Tony asked.

"You should know," Steve said. "You're the one who initiated the context." Tony smiled and nodded.

"That I did, that I did." Tony felt someone tap on his shoulder. Annoyed, he turned back around to look at Romanoff. "You're ruining the moment again."

"I'm sorry," she said. "But I'm not the one who's about to 'crash hard.'" At those words, Tony felt his stomach roll uncomfortably again. His pained expression didn't escape Romanoff's notice. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Come on, let's get you back to the car."

Tony took her hand and followed her through the crowd. Checking back, he saw Steve following closely behind. Tony shut his eyes and allowed Romanoff to guide him through the chaos, thanking whatever entities made it possible for him to get through this without vomiting all over the House floor.

When he opened his eyes again, he ended up spotting a familiar face. Standing near the exit at the top of the stairs, he caught sight of Fury standing next to a blonde-haired woman wearing an Air Force dress uniform. It took a second for his mind to put together that it was Carol. He knew the others had spotted Fury as they all gave him nods of acknowledgement as they walked past, but none of them seemed to take notice of Carol. Tony did, though, and caught the little wave she gave him as he passed by. He gave her one back.

* * *

Steve and Romanoff helped him back to the room. Once he was settled into bed, Romanoff left and Steve slid into the space next to him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Tony buried his face in Steve's shoulder and took a deep breath, trying to relax. His stomach felt much worse than it did during the State of the Union. Part of him was convinced that if he could just fall asleep, then maybe the nausea would go away. It was wishful thinking, but Tony was still willing to try it.

"You feel okay?" Steve eventually asked.

"Yeah," Tony sighed. "Just want to sleep."

"Understandable," Steve said.

"I can't, though." He knew Steve frowned at that.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Can't get my mind to turn off," Tony said. "I mean, I'm not really thinking about anything at all, other than how much I want to sleep, but still my brain won't switch off."

"Just relax," Steve said. "It'll come." Things were quiet again for a few moments, until Tony felt the pressing need to ask something.

"Steve," he said. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," Steve said. "Why would you think that?"

"You seemed upset when I said I wanted to go to the State of the Union," Tony pointed out. Steve sighed.

"I'm not mad at you," he assured. "I'm worried for you."

"Why?" Tony asked.

"I know you're doing things to hurt yourself," Steve admitted. "And I haven't been doing anything to stop it."

"I wouldn't let you stop it," Tony said.

"That doesn't mean I should be enabling it," Steve said. "In fact, I think that makes me a pretty terrible boyfriend for enabling it." Tony scooched back to get a proper look at Steve.

"Steve," he said. "You're not a terrible boyfriend. You're probably one of the best I've ever had."

"Then why do you keep doing this to yourself?" Steve asked. "Drinking all the time… Am I not enough?"

"No," Tony tried to assure. "No, absolutely not. I just… I…"

_"Eventually you're going to have to make a choice. It might not be today, but for your sake, I hope it comes sooner rather than later."_

_I guess now is the time to make that choice._

"I need help," he finally got out. "Can you… Can you help me?"

"I don't know how much help I can be," Steve said.

"Whatever you can," Tony said. "Please, anything you can do – even if it's just holding me right now – could help. Just please…" Tony could feel Steve's arms tighten around his waist and his lips pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Okay," he said. "I can do that."

"Thank you," Tony whispered into Steve shoulder, a few stray tears falling from his eyes. "Thank you."

* * *

**Thank you to mfaerie32 for the review on FFN! It really means a lot! **

**I'm not going to lie, I am not a fan of Barrack Obama. I wasn't when he was President and I'm still not now, but does anyone else miss him? Like, I actually miss having a normal individual who knows when to shut their mouth as President. God, why did we take that for granted?**

**Just so everyone's aware, in this universe, the chain of presidents is going to go Obama - Elias (to be compliant with _Iron Man 3_) - Trump. Most of the reason is that the MCU is rather inconsistent with this. In _Iron Man 3_ and _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ it's stated that the fictitious character of President Elias, while _Luke Cage_ and _the Runaways_ supposedly make direct references to President Obama. (I've only seen the first season of _Luke Cage_ and none of _the Runaways_, so don't take my word a hundred percent, I'm just going off of what I've heard.) If I don't get to the Obama - Elias transition (because I probably won't remember to when I go to adapt _Iron Man 3_) I'm just going to state right now that instead of Mitt Romney, Obama went against Elias in the 2012 election. Obama lost because the public wasn't entirely impressed with how he responded to the Battle of New York and went with Elias, who took a harder stance. As far as the Elias - Trump transition... I think that's going to be a major theme in the lead up to something else so I'm not going to touch on it. Just remember that's how it's going to go. Obama - Elias - Trump.**

**I also couldn't resist adding the Gabrielle Giffords cameo. She had been invited to the State of the Union as a special guest of Michelle Obama at the 2012 State of the Union so there was that little bit of accuracy. Also, because of the fact that I kind of look up to her. I mean, I'm sure I don't agree with her on her politics, but I just can't help but admire her strength. Not only did she get shot in the head and survive, but she did her best to continue serving as a Congresswoman afterward. She resigned on January 25th, 2012 to focus on her recovery, but I'm impressed that she held on as long as she did. To this day she continues to make great strides in her recovery and is an advocate for stricter gun-control.**

**Sorry about all the technical stuff. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and be sure to leave a review!**

**Remember kids, the world isn't as terrible of a place as it seems sometimes.**

* * *

**Originally posted on 9/25/19.**


	19. Going Through Changes

**Uploading this chapter is the last thing I have to do before I go out to the kitchen to check on the dogs. I also have a feeling this will be the last time I'll be heard from again as my sister's Great Dane will decide my foot makes a perfectly good butt-rest and never let me move ever while my mom's Chugle Terrier ignores my cries for help and goes on barking at my six-year-old neighbor who is in no way a threat to us and is just playing catch in his yard like every other six-year-old in America. I'm going insane. Send help.**

* * *

**Wednesday, January 25th, 2012**

Tony's eyes squeezed shut, and he was gripping the edges of the plastic bowl in his hands tightly. Both his head and stomach were throbbing, and the fact that he was in constant motion didn't help with that one bit. In retrospect, getting on the plane was probably a bad idea, but Tony just wanted to go back to his apartment, curl up on his air mattress, and wait for death. Air travel was the fastest means to that end, so he would have to endure the suffering until he reached his destination.

There had been a debate about whether they should return to New York as planned or not. On the one hand, withdrawal symptoms had finally hit Tony hard. He woke up three different times during the night to throw up. Each time he failed to make it to the bathroom, but luckily Steve moved fast and managed to grab a plastic bag or a wastebasket and get it to Tony before the contents of his stomach ended up all over the hotel's extremely lovely plush carpeting. After the third time, Tony went straight to the bathroom and laid down on the cold tile floor in front of the toilet. Steve joined him a short while later, bringing pillows and blankets with him. Both stayed on the floor until the first light of dawn.

It wasn't just the vomiting that had them concerned. Tony's skin had gone so pale that someone could confuse him in a lineup with Casper the Friendly Ghost and a dying E.T. Add to that the fact that his minor shivers before had progressed to full-body trembles and what you got wasn't a pretty picture. The worst part about all of it was that despite how terrible he was doing now, there was still a chance that things could get worse.

While withdrawing from alcohol, there was a risk that the sufferer could fall into a seizure. Tony himself had nearly gone into cardiac arrest when Bruce mentioned that, and with the way Steve had paled, he could imagine that he wasn't far behind him. Bruce was quick to amend that seizures only occurred in about fifteen percent of patients, but Lara questioned the sample size and pointed out that fifteen percent could still be a disconcerting number of people. All that did was make Tony wonder if he had the legal authority to send her to a nursing school so she could learn a proper bedside manner.

It was looking like the better idea was to cancel the flight and try to ride out the withdrawal symptoms in the hotel, that presented problems in and of itself. Most notably, the fact that they were staying in a **hotel**. While Tony certainly could afford to pay for all six rooms for the rest of their natural-born lives, it wasn't exactly the best position to be in, especially considering they would have to pay for any damages the rooms took while they were there. If Tony got sick on the floor, he would have to pay for that. Again, it wasn't like he couldn't afford it – he could – but it was still a pain, especially when he could go to one of his own houses or apartments and not have to worry about paying for something of someone else's he ruined. (On that note, he was kicking himself for not investing in a place in D.C. Granted, before plans scrapped there was going to be another Stark Tower built in D.C. and if that had gone through he would have another apartment, but the Chitauri invasion happened, so it didn't. Story of his life.)

Not only that but in all honesty, Tony just wanted to distance himself from what had happened over the past few days. Going home seemed to be the best way to do that. So, he tried to argue in favor of going back to New York. The others were skeptical, worried about what would happen if he took a turn for the worse mid-flight. Tony tried to assure them that he would be fine, but his assurances seemed to fall on deaf ears. It wasn't until they got a knock on the door that everyone was compelled to change their minds.

The concierge had come up to the room to ask them to leave as soon as possible. Someone had spotted Barton's puppy and told the hotel staff. As a result, they were being kicked out and forced to pay for any damages done to the room. Tony handed the bill to Barton, who broke out into a cold sweat upon seeing the number of zeros behind the five.

Given that they were being kicked out there was no point in moving their luggage from one hotel to another and Tony was very vocal in his desire to leave D.C. as soon as possible, they decided to take their flight as planned. They packed everything up fast and headed to the airport. It was hectic, but they were all able to do it. Well, almost all of them. An absence noted as soon as they boarded the flight.

"Hey," Bruce had said. "Wait for a second, where's Freeman? Didn't anyone tell him we were going?"

"I did," Lara said. "He said he was flying back commercial."

Tony had been surprised. Freeman had made his allegiances clear the night before. He was going to have to discuss Freeman's continued employment at Stark Industries with Pepper once he was better, along with – and he hated the thought of this, but it was apparent it needed to be done – going through human resources training with the upper levels of management. Specifically, one employee, but everyone else was probably due for a brush up as well, and he didn't exactly want to single her out.

Lara trained in Stark Industries' human resources policies. Although, her training had been hasty given that Tony and Pepper wanted her doing her job as soon as possible, but she trained. However, she was also prepared to protect foreign dignitaries and presidential candidates, maintain weapons and ammunition, be a victim of war, and tell the difference between a real twenty-dollar bill and one someone printed off Google Images. It was drilled into her to intervene in a situation and end it before someone got hurt by using whatever means to that end, including physical force. It was clear she tended to fall back on this training whenever she was panicked or stressed. Granted, the worst she'd done so far was try to drag his drunken self out of a party by the hand like he was a toddler, but still it was clear that it was something she'd need to work on and making everyone do it would make it seem a little less like they were targeting her specifically.

Freeman, though, was a different case entirely. He knew where Tony was when he was missing and didn't tell the other Avengers or notify the police. That had to be illegal, never mind being grounds for terminating his position. It was inexcusable and impossible to ignore. Something had to happen about it.

Not long after boarding, they had taken off. One of the perks of having a private jet was that there were no delays or wait times. Tony was okay during lift-off and for the first ten or fifteen minutes of the flight. Then everything went to hell.

Very abruptly, Tony started gagging. He was sitting in one of the booth seats with him and Steve on one side and Bruce and Romanoff on the other. He had been given the aisle seat so he could get to the bathroom quickly if he needed to, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen anyway as his body seemed to freeze upon him. Luckily, Barton – who was sitting in one of the recliners across the aisle – practically thrust an airsickness bag underneath him just in time to catch the first round of Tony's retching. Once he got the first round out, there was enough of a pause for Tony to get to the bathroom for rounds two and three.

Steve followed him to the bathroom but could only watch from the door as there wasn't much space. When he finished, though, Steve did help him by handing him some napkins to wipe off his face. Tony got up from the floor and did his best to rinse his mouth out using water from the sink. He heard once that if your mouth tasted like vomit, it would just make you throw up again. The best thing to do to keep that from happening was to brush your teeth, but Tony didn't have a toothbrush or toothpaste on him, and the closest thing to mouthwash available on the plane was peppermint schnapps, and he wouldn't be allowed to use that. He'd have to make do with just straight water.

Tony stayed in the bathroom for a long time after he finished throwing up because he was afraid that if he left, round four would sneak upon him. Steve stayed nearby, ready to jump in and help Tony if he showed any signs of distress. Eventually, Romanoff came over with a plastic bowl she found somewhere. It wasn't that big and could hold maybe one round of vomiting, but hopefully, that's all they would need it to do until Tony could make it to the bathroom. She handed it to Steve, who gave it to Tony, who took it with a dry, scratchy "thank you." They then proceeded back to their seats, where Tony had been sitting ever since.

Although it had only been ten or fifteen minutes since he had gotten back from the bathroom, to Tony, it felt like an eternity. As stated before, the motions of the plane didn't do anything to help his stomach, and he wanted nothing more than to open the plane's door and walk out. (Not in a suicidal way. The MK12 could quickly deploy from the tower and make it to him before he could hit the ground. Although, it could technically be considered homicidal seeing as everyone else would be sucked out of the airplane and killed if he did that.) It was agonizing but slowly, the waves of nausea started ebbing back, and Tony could feel himself begin to relax a bit. Steve put a hand on his back, and he relaxed a bit more.

That was another good thing about going back to the tower. Tony and Steve could be as affectionate with each other all they like, and no one could say anything about it because it was Tony's building. If they didn't like it, they could leave, or Cabe could throw them out. Feeling a little more secure, knowing that fact, Tony leaned into the touch.

"You okay?" Steve asked.

"No," Tony said. "But I don't think I'm going to puke right this second, so I'd say that's good." Another wave of nausea would probably grip him in the next fifteen seconds. He was going to enjoy this respite while it lasted.

"How do you feel exactly?" Bruce asked. Tony frowned.

"Like I could run a 10K," Tony said. "What do you think?" Bruce was unphased by his snappiness. He could deal with severe patients.

"What symptoms are you feeling specifical?" he clarified. "Other than obvious nausea."

"Headache," Tony said. "The unrelenting fear that I'm going to choke to death…"

"He's shaking terrible," Steve pointed out. "Is that a sign that he's going to have a seizure?"

"No," Bruce said. "Shaking would only happen once the seizure set in. It's just the general absence of alcohol in his system making him do that. Most of the time, there is no warning for a seizure. It just happens. Although some patients have reported certain types of olfactory feedback before experiencing a seizure."

"Like what?" Tony asked.

"Some people have reported smelling things that others did not before experiencing a seizure," Bruce said. "Normally it's the smell of chemicals or burning wires."

"Yeah," Tony said. "I think I'd be more likely to throw up if I suddenly started smelling a chem lab fire. …But thanks for the heads up." The last part added quietly, but Bruce still heard it and nodded in acknowledgment.

"You feel okay right this minute, though?" Lara asked. Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Okay enough," he said as he opened his eyes. "Why?"

"Do you want to see how the media's responding to you guys?" she asked. "Or would you rather stay in the dark until you're better?"

"Hit me with it now," he said. "It'll give me one less thing to worry about." Lara nodded. She got out of the recliner chair across from Barton and set her laptop down in front of Tony.

"Generally, the reception is good," Lara said, showing a graphic she'd compiled on the news media response. Reading some of the headlines she gathered, it was clear she was truthful on that. "I just wanted to preface it with that. There was some criticism about the abrupt cancellations on Monday – most notably from the outlets we canceled with – but I'm working to fix that."

"Everhart's interview?" Tony asked.

"Hasn't aired yet," Lara said. "It's not going to until Friday." Tony nodded.

"Anything else?"

"Well, two clips from the Q&A session have gone viral." Lara caught the apprehensive look on his face. "Don't worry. It's not any of the moments where someone got violently dragged out. The first one was Clint accepting the bracelet for Thor from the little girl and the second was Natasha shutting down that creepy guy asking about her underwear." Romanoff's eyes went wide.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Yep," Lara said, popping the "p." "I looked up the comments on the original upload, and most people seem to be supportive of you. Although, FYI, most of the views the video got probably came from me replaying it over and over because that was just glorious, and I wish I could have appreciated it properly at the moment."

"Uh, thank you," Romanoff said, still clearly shocked. She instantly pulled out her phone and presumably began searching for the video herself.

"And that's seriously everything?" Tony gave Lara a hard look, but she nodded without hesitation.

"That's all that's worth mentioning right now," she said. "There are a few minor blips, but we can leave them alone for now."

"Alright." Tony started gesturing to the laptop. "Can you get this out of my face now?"

"Oh, sure." Lara began to pick up the computer. "Sorry. I forgot with your headache, your eyes…"

"It's not that," Tony said. "I'm just offended you use Windows Vista."

"What's wrong with Vista?" Lara asked.

"Everything," Tony said. "I mean, if you like Microsoft, fine, but at least upgrade to Windows 7."

"I can't get the hang of Windows 7," Lara said. "I'll just stick with this."

"Andouille," Tony said.

"Casse couille." Tony didn't even bat an eye.

"You know, I can fire you for insubordination." Lara rolled her eyes as she sat back down.

"Oh, please," she said. "Those are weak insults compared to what I've heard from my mother."

"Like what?" Barton asked Lara.

"J'aurais dû t'avorter," Lara said without missing a beat. Tony sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. Howard might have been a terrible parent, but at least he never said that to him. At least, not outright. Barton, however, seemed to be confused.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But what does that translate out to?" Lara opened her mouth to answer, but Steve cut her off before she could even begin to speak.

"No, no," Steve said. "You don't want to know." The look he gave Lara pleaded with her not to speak. Getting the message, she nodded and turned her attention back to her laptop screen. Barton still appeared to be confused, but a few hand gestures from Romanoff seemed to fix that. He pulled the puppy in his arms closer to his chest and gave Lara a sympathetic look.

Seeing as the conversation abruptly died, and the next wave of nausea still hadn't hit him yet, Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had talked to Pepper the day before to reassure her that he was okay, but the last time he had texted her was on Sunday. Pulling her up in his messenger app, he could see that their previous conversation had been about the color of the curtains in the living room. Tony couldn't be sure of how drunk he was when he wrote some of those texts.

He tapped the dialogue box to compose a new message. He realized he probably should have done this earlier, but better late than never he supposed.

Me: Where are you right now?

She responded rather quickly. It surprised Tony at first until he read the text.

Pepper Pot: At the tower. I'm just about to leave to pick you guys up.

Right, that made sense. If Pepper was in the tower, then JARVIS had access to her phone and could read text messages and compose them for her. Tony had that functionality built into the plane as well as his phone, but for privacy's sake, he was choosing not to use it.

Me: Can I ask you to do something for me?

Pepper Pot: Sure. What?

Tony took a deep breath before typing his next message.

Me: I need you to get rid of all the alcohol in the penthouse.

Pepper Pot: Are you serious?

Me: Yes.

Me: There's a bar between the kitchen and the living room on the common floor, one of the central balcony deck on the second floor, one in the theater on the third floor, and one in my private office — also spots where I've hidden alcohol in the apartment and the penthouse. JARVIS can show you where they are.

"You get that, J?" Tony whispered into his phone.

"Affirmative, Sir," The AI confirmed.

Quickly, Pepper responded.

Pepper Pot: I already know about some of the spots. The painters and the furniture delivery guy came across them, and I got rid of it. Still, that's a lot of alcohol. I don't think I could pour it out fast enough to be able to meet you guys.

Me: Don't pour them out! That'll take too long!

Pepper Pot: Then what do you suggest I do?

Me: I don't know. Throw it out in the trash chute? Chuck them out the window? I don't care. Just get rid of them.

Pepper Pot: You are serious.

Me: Deathly.

Pepper Pot: Okay. I've already started collecting bottles. I think I can clear out yours and Steve's apartment, but I need more time to clear out the rest of the penthouse.

Me: That's alright. Thank you.

Tony put his phone down on the table and sunk into his seat, shutting his eyes. Unsure of how much time they had left in the flight, he wasn't sure if he should fall asleep. Instead, he kept his eyes closed, and his mind on the very edge of awareness. He could hear Steve, Bruce, Barton, and Romanoff strike up a conversation. At one point, Steve ran his hand up and down Tony's arm in a comforting gesture. Tony smiled and leaned into the touch. It was lovely, peaceful. He liked it. He could spend the rest of his life like this.

Unfortunately, life wasn't so kind. A wave of nausea crashed down on Tony hard. Before he knew it, he was surging to his feet and rushing back to the bathroom, the bowl in his hands being held just below his chin to catch any escaping bile. Desperately, Tony hoped he could make it through the rest of the flight without literally throwing his guts up.

* * *

After that fourth round of vomiting, Tony didn't throw up for the rest of the flight. Steve helped him back to his seat, and he went back to rest until the announcement came over the speakers that they were making their descent into New York. He couldn't have been more relieved.

The landing had been gentle and without much turbulence. There was a jolt as the landing gear touched the ground, but otherwise, it was smooth and didn't do much to upset Tony's stomach. After that, it was just waiting for the plane to taxi up to the set of air-stairs. It seemed to take forever, but eventually, the plane did come to a stop.

Steve helped Tony off the plane. For once, Tony helped him out a bit by keeping his eyes open and watching where he was going. As they stepped out onto the stairs, Tony caught sight of Pepper and Happy getting out of the car to meet them. A bit of a Mona Lisa smile formed on Tony's mouth. As glad as he was to see them, Tony couldn't help but worry about how they would react to him knowing his actions over the past few days.

Once they were down the stairs, Pepper approached them. Before he could say anything, Tony found himself pulled into a hug. Although it was warm and friendly, Tony couldn't quite relax into it, still somewhat worried. Pepper moved her head so she could speak right into his ear.

"I took care of the apartment," she said. "I haven't gotten to the rest of the penthouse yet. I didn't have enough time."

"That's good for now," Tony said. "Thank you."

Pepper pulled back and smiled at him, making Tony wonder what made him think that she would be mad in the first place. Sure, once he was better, she would probably give him a piece of her mind, but right now, he was vulnerable, and she wasn't one to kick someone while they were down. Pepper then moved on to Steve, whom she embraced as well. Tony noticed that she turned to whisper in Steve's ear, too. For a moment, Tony wondered what they were talking about before he dismissed it as none of his business.

The rest of the Avengers and Lara disembarked the flight. Bruce, Romanoff, and Lara carried multiple bags over their shoulders while Barton struggled between his one pack and the squirming puppy he brought in his other arm. Pepper greeted Romanoff and Bruce warmly and introduced herself to Barton. Happy tried to take their bags from them. Bruce handed his right over, but Romanoff insisted she was perfectly capable of carrying her bags herself. It took a look from Barton and him handing over his backpack to get her to comply.

The bags were carried off to an SUV waiting nearby. It wasn't the car they were going to be taking. That car drove by an SI employee and was meant to bring their luggage to the tower. The car they would be using was a Honda Odyssey. Tony couldn't remember his reasoning for buying it. Most likely, he purchased it on some impulse and forgot about it. However, it was a good thing that he did. It allowed all of them to move through the city without drawing the same amount of attention that a limo would (and did while they were in D.C.)

Happy was driving. Lara got into the passenger's seat. Barton, Romanoff, and Bruce took the rear bench while the middle row was left open for Pepper, Tony, and Steve. Pepper got in first and helped Steve steady Tony as he climbed into the vehicle. Tony thanked her as he settled into the middle seat (because of course he would get stuck with the hump) and Steve climbed in after him.

Tony shut his eyes as he heard the car's ignition turn over and rested his head on Steve's shoulder. He felt the car move in reverse for a moment before turning around. He could hear Pepper striking up a conversation with the others; asking how the flight was and the like. Happy had the radio on, albeit at a low volume. Softly, he could make out the tune of "Dream On." Tony took a moment to appreciate the song before he found himself being lulled to sleep.

* * *

When he woke up, they had already arrived at the tower. Steve had a hand on his shoulder and was nudging him carefully. Tony smiled at the sight of his boyfriend being so gentle, and he got a smile in return. Steve helped him out of the car, keeping him steady until he touched down on the cement floor of the parking garage underneath the tower.

The car that had taken their luggage had already arrived. Tony could see that Happy had gotten into an argument with the people tasked with carrying their bags. Tony did nothing to hide his snort of amusement at sight. Gently being guided and supported by Steve's hand on his shoulder, Tony followed the others into the elevators.

Before they could go up to the penthouse, they had to make a stop on the level of the lobby, where Lara would be getting off. She had only gone with them to the tower because it was a lot easier and made a bit more sense for her to go there with them and catch a train from Grand Central Station. From there, she would take the subway until she connected at the station for the line going to Nyack, New York, where her brother lived, and she had left her car and cat. Just before the elevator doors opened, Tony grabbed her attention.

"Conroy." She turned around. "Don't come in tomorrow."

"What?" she questioned, raising her eyebrow. "But it's Thursday."

"I know," he said. "But don't come in." Lara opened her mouth to question why, but Tony cut her off. "I'm serious. Take the day off. You deserve it."

"But I have to…"

"Stay at your brother's house," he said. "Do whatever you need to get done that you couldn't get to this weekend." What he was saying clicked with Lara.

"Right," she said with a slow nod. "I'll do that. Will you be okay, though?"

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I probably won't be going in either." Lara gave another nod, this one surer.

"Alright." The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open, allowing Lara to get off. "I guess I'll see you all on Friday, then."

They all said their goodbyes and Lara stepped out of the elevator. The doors shut and everyone was able to spread out a little more now that she wasn't taking up so much space with her bags. Pepper stuck her electronic key into the elevator's control panel, and after a moment, it started going up towards the penthouse. Tony felt a tap on his left shoulder and was surprised to see Barton leaning over to whisper in his ear.

"Was that because of that psycho ex of hers?" Tony looked at Barton in surprise.

"Actually yes," he said. "How did you know about that?"

"He kept calling her while you were missing," Barton explained. "I threatened to kill him if he called her again and that must have scared him because I don't think he has."

"As optimistic as I'd like to be," Tony said. "It's still probably best for her to stay far away from the city until she at least has the wheels in motion to get legal protection from him."

"Can't argue with that," Barton agreed.

A minute or two later, the elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened into the penthouse. Tony was prepared to give Barton and Romanoff a tour of the place until the second he stepped off the elevator. Then, his stomach gave a violent lurch, and Tony had to think fast before he tossed his cookies across the marble floor. Thankfully, the trash chute was right next to the elevator, so he didn't have to look far.

Ripping the chute open with a force he didn't even know he possessed, Tony launched into another round of projectile vomiting. His eyes squeezed shut, and he was sure he was about to die. He heard people talking but couldn't make out what they were saying over his gagging. The only thing that he knew for sure was that the hand that started rubbing gentle circles across his back was Steve's. That provided some level of comfort.

It felt like hours had passed before Tony could stand wholly upright and start to move away from the trash chute. When he did, Steve pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and used it to wipe his mouth off. He hummed gratefully.

"You alright?" Tony nodded.

"For the moment I think," he said in a scratchy voice. Looking around, he saw that they were the only ones in the foyer. "Where did everyone go?"

"Pepper went to give Clint and Natasha the tour," Steve said. "And I think Banner went to unpack."

"Right," Tony said with another nod.

"Was it the elevator that made you sick?" Steve asked.

"No," he said. "I think it was the sudden stop." Steve nodded.

"Do you think you can handle another ride, or should we take the stairs?" he asked. Tony only responded by stepping forward into Steve's chest and wrapping his arms around his neck.

"I don't care," he said. "Just carry me." Tony could have sworn he heard Steve laugh a bit before he scooped him up into his arms. It was remarkably easy for Steve to lift him, but Tony shouldn't be surprised since he **was** a Super Soldier. Pushing open the door to the foyer with his hip, Steve carried Tony over the threshold and down the hall to the local elevator.

Tony buried his face in Steve's neck and didn't look at anything the entire way up to the apartment. He just breathed in Steve's natural scent and slowly felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. That was until he felt himself being placed down on something soft. Waking up, he realized Steve was lowering him onto a bed – **their** bed.

"I'm just going to get a bowl or pot or something from the kitchen," Steve said. "I'll be right back." He pressed a kiss to Tony's cheek before turning and walking out of the room.

Dazed, Tony sat up a little bit. Looking around, he could see that the room was the same shape it was when he last slept in it, but it felt a lot smaller. The walls were a dark shade of blue and the raw poured cement floor replaced with a dark-stained hardwood. There was a TV and a small seating area in front of him. On his right side, a desk had been set up along with a basic PC. (Obviously not meant for Tony.) However, the most significant change was that he was lying in a bed. Not on a flimsy plastic blow-up bed nabbed from some liquidation store. An actual, real bed that he was going to share with Steve. He couldn't lie, it felt nice.

Lying back down, Tony ran his fingers over the fabric of the comforter. It was a metallic, silky material in a blue a few shades lighter than the wall. Slowly, Lara's words came back to him about how he had been depriving himself of comfort. He wasn't going to lie, that stung and almost made him retreat into the kitchen for that bottle of Jack Daniels he kept in the cabinet under the sink. However, now he had enough clarity to know that it only stung because it was true. He denied himself comfort; from Steve; from his friends; from his surroundings; from everything. Everything except the bottom of a bottle, and while he wasn't wholly sober yet, he could see at least a bit of what he'd been missing out. Rolling onto his side, Tony wrapped his arms around one of the pillows and allowed himself to relax, taking deep, calm breaths in and out.

Steve returned to the room a moment later. Tony could hear his footsteps move softly across the floor and something metal clash against the wood. Turning around, Tony saw that he had gotten a pot and set it down on the nightstand behind him.

"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to disturb you."

"No," Tony assured. "You're good." He patted the space next to him. "Come on, join me, stranger." Steve smiled and walked around to the other side of the bed, getting under the covers.

Frowning, Tony realized that he still had on his heavy winter jacket and shoes, while Steve had stripped down to just the sweat pants he had been wearing. Sitting back up, Tony removed the coat and toed off his boots. He realized he probably should brush his teeth, but his exhausted body didn't want to trek over to the bathroom until it had to. Dropping his coat on the floor, Tony wondered if he should take off his shirt as well. After a moment's consideration, he decided against it. Steve was already scared about how sick he was. He wasn't going to add the shock of seeing his chest to that. Pulling back the covers, Tony got into bed and snuggled up close to Steve.

For a while, it was quiet. Tony just focused on breathing and his proximity to Steve. He was almost relaxed back into a sound sleep when Steve softly spoke up.

"Pepper told me that you asked her to get rid of all the alcohol. Is that true?" Tony sighed. Of course, that was what she whispered to Steve.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"What does that mean?" Tony knew what the real question wad underneath that one.

_"Are you going to quit drinking?"_

"I don't know," he admitted with a sigh. "For now it's probably just best not to have it around. I'm not sure… I don't think I can commit to anything yet."

"Why not?" The question was said slowly and carefully. Steve was not trying to come off, whiney, and demanding. Appreciating that, Tony took the time to consider the answer to that question.

"I can't," he said. "I can't think now. When I can, then I'll move forward and start figuring things out. I need time…"

"Okay." Steve's arms tightened around him. "Take all the time you need. Just tell me when you're ready, and we'll figure things out together."

Tony's heart swelled. A smile was on his face as he leaned forward and kissed Steve's cheek. Steve responded with a kiss on the lips. Settling back in to get some rest, he could feel his entire body buzzing with ecstatic energy. It took a while for him to fall asleep properly, but his last thought before he drifted off was _God, I love that man._

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**Thank you to everyone who's checked out this story so far! It really means a lot! :)**

**I've procrastinated long enough (sadly.) I'll just leave you on that happy note.**

**Remember kids, cats are infinitely better than dogs.**

* * *

**Originally posted to FFN on 10/1/19.**


	20. A Meeting With the Powers That Be

**Happy _Walking Dead _premiere day to anyone who also happens to be a fan of that show and a very Happy Birthday to James Rupert "Rhodey" Rhodes! (I swear, I haven't forgotten that he exists! He doesn't want to be written into any of my stories!)**

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**Friday, January 27th, 2012**

"I think it's time you thought about getting a haircut." Adoniram looked at his wife through the reflective surface of the mirror. This had been a tradition of theirs for as long as they'd been together. Before Daniel would go in front of the congregation, Margot would comb his hair for him. When they started this, his hair was brown and in a bowl cut. Now, it was white and began to reach past his shoulders, and even though he kept it tied back in a ponytail most of the time, it still managed to become tangled quickly. Margot had pulled at a particularly nasty bur when she made that remark, causing a flash of pain to come across his face.

"I think not," he said.

"It would be so much easier to comb," Margot pointed out. "Plus, I think you'd look so much more handsome."

"Handsome?" Adoniram questioned.

"Yeah," Margot said. "Like when we first got married. Remember that? You looked so handsome that day. I felt like I was the luckiest girl on Earth."

"You are," Adoniram assured. "And soon, you'll be much more than that."

"Yeah," she said in a soft, slightly sad tone of voice.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's just…" Margot sighed. "As wonderful as ascension is, I'm just worried I'm going to miss this."

"What is there to miss?" Adoniram asked. "After we ascend, there will be nothing left that this Earth can offer us. We will be free to roam the stars as we have always so desperately desired."

"But will we still be able to do this?" Margot asked. "Be close?" Adoniram stood up and cupped her face in his hand.

"I promise you, wife," he said. "We will always be together. The universe has entwined our souls. We were destined to be together, to ascension and beyond."

"To ascension and beyond," Margot repeated. She pulled his hand closer to her mouth and kissed the palm when a knock was heard at the door.

"Come in," Adoniram called. The door opened, and a short, redheaded woman stepped in. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Sister Grace?"

"Brother Daniel," she said. "Brother Eduardo and Brother Duane are here to see you."

"Brother Duane?" Adoniram questioned. "I'm sorry, but he's escaping my recollection. Would you mind reminding me?"

"He's the one who works for Stark Industries, Brother." Now he could recall. Duane Freeman. He was one of the most significant sources of income for the church. Everything he made went into the collective community pool, as did every other member of the churches. However, he made the most out of all of them. Technically, Salinas made more, but he was only required to add what he made from farming and his earnings as a Congressman. Any other ventures he had, he could keep the profits from to himself, leaving Freeman as their big earner. However, his money wasn't the reason Adoniram had taken an interest in him as of late. No, he was more interested in Freeman's connections to Stark Industries and – more importantly – the Avengers.

That day back in September, Adoniram had told his followers that the Chitauri Invasion was the start of the apocalypse, and to be honest, he thought it could be. Although he used the incident to renew his follower's waning belief, he truly feared that this would be the end of all things. At least, on Earth. Thanks to the shard, Adoniram knew that there were other planets and galaxies out there, teeming with life. If the entire population of the Earth had been exterminated, it wouldn't matter. There were still worlds that would continue to turn without them. Earth, Terra, Midgard, C-53… It was just a tiny drop in the bucket; one that could easily be washed away. So honestly, this wasn't the apocalypse. It was just a mass genocide. However, his followers didn't know that. They only knew what he told them. So, he said to them it was the end of days. He tried to impress in their minds that this was the end times, and only their belief in the church – their faith in **him** – could protect them and lead them into the next phase of their journey.

Then something funny happened; the world didn't end.

Although, yes, New York was in ruins, the population managed to survive, save for an unlucky few. Everyone was left in shock in the aftermath. Somehow, the invasion stopped, and the ones who had finished it was deemed, heroes. On every newspaper, news broadcast, and webpage on Earth, the faces of the Avengers could be seen; Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Thor Odinson, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Tony Stark. To the entire world, they were saints, saviors, messiahs.

Adoniram couldn't have that. He couldn't have his followers seeing these people as anyone they could look up to. **He** was the only one they could look to. **He** was supposed to be their savior, not them. So as soon as he could, Adoniram did and said anything he could to vilify the Avengers.

He told his followers that the Avengers were demons; monsters sent from across the galaxy to thwart their eternal day of reckoning; to prevent them from beginning the next phase of their cosmic journey. At first, he worried that his followers wouldn't believe it, but they ate the words up like ants with a glob of jelly. Not only did they take to that message, but others did as well. Recruitment went up to levels he had never seen before. There were a lot of people who weren't happy about what the Avengers did, particularly those who had lost people that day in Manhattan. With all that bias and grief fresh in their minds, it was easy to twist them and to manipulate them into following their teachings. Within a few weeks, the church went from struggling to healthier than ever. Adoniram almost couldn't believe it.

However, he knew that with this new villain, something had to be done about them. That's why he had taken an interest in Freeman. His position in Stark Industries put him close to a lot of big players, notably Tony Stark himself. If he could discover a weakness or flaw that Stark or the Avengers had, then maybe they could exploit it.

Over the past week, Freeman was spending a significant amount of time with the Avengers as they did their press tour. He wanted to see if he had found anything yet. Salinas was to be supervising Freeman as he worked so he could verify the validity of Freeman's claims. Recalling all of this, Adoniram nodded.

"You can send them in," he said. "As long as you don't mind escorting Sister Margot to the backstage area?"

"No problem, Brother," Grace said. "Follow me, Sister."

Grace then turned and left the room. Margot allowed Adoniram to kiss the back of her hand before following her out. Within moments of their departure, Salinas and Freeman entered the room. Salinas walked in with his usual confidence, holding out his hand for Adoniram to shake and flashing him his almost iconic million-dollar smile.

"Brother Daniel," he said. "Wonderful to see you again." Adoniram took his hand and smiled back.

"Drop the formalities, Salinas," he said. "We're alone; nobody's going to know." Instantly Salinas' face dropped, and he let out a breath of relief."

"Oh, thank God," he said. "Do you know how frustrating that is, calling everyone 'brother' and 'sister' all the time?"

"It creates a sense of equality," Adoniram explained.

"It's still an awkward formality," Salinas commented.

"A lot less awkward than the Russian 'comrade,'" Adoniram said. "And less obvious." Salinas shrugged.

"True enough," he said.

"Alright." Adoniram clapped his hands together and sat down on the stool he'd been sitting on before. "Enough chit-chat. Let's get down to business. What do you have on the Avengers?" Adoniram locked eyes with Freeman, who tugged at the collar of his shirt.

"Well," he said slowly, pausing for a moment to swallow hard. "As you know, this past week didn't go as planned…"

"I know," Adoniram smiled. "It went better than we could have ever predicted."

"What?" Salinas' eyes went wide.

"Well, I mean yes," Adoniram said. "We failed in our main objective in turning the media against the Avengers, but we sowed enough seeds of distrust in there for us to work with. Particularly with that disappearing act, Stark did on Monday."

"I called the RCMP," Salinas pointed out.

"It still did damage to the Avengers' accountability and reputation," Adoniram said. "So I still consider it a win. Add that to the fact that rumors are saying that Stark was highly intoxicated on Sunday night, and we've got a pretty abysmal picture to work with." Adoniram turned to Freeman. "I don't know what you did, but it could not have worked out better."

"That's the thing, Brother," Freeman said. "I didn't do anything." Adoniram's smile wavered.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't get me wrong," Freeman said. "I did everything I was asked to do. I switched out interview scripts, I got our people into that Q&A session, but Stark's actions weren't my fault. He did all of that on his own."

"Really?" Adoniram said. "He did all of that on his own?"

"Uh, yes." Adoniram started laughing.

"Oh, that's just brilliant!" he said. "He's doing all of the hard work for us! Pretty soon, we won't need to do anything! He'll self-destruct on his own and take the Avengers down with him! Oh, it's perfect!"

"About that," Freeman said. "Do you think it's necessary to do that?" Instantly the laughter stopped, and Adoniram's face fell.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, it's just…" Freeman hesitated a moment. "Don't you think the Avengers would make better allies than enemies?"

"I don't think I understand," Adoniram said.

"Just think about it," Freeman said. "Sure, we have some seeds of dissent sown, but as you admitted yourself, this past week was a failure. Public support for the Avengers is still strong. Don't you think we should be taking advantage of that? If we could convince the Avengers to join our ranks, I'm certain we would see a massive uptick in recruitment numbers." Adoniram stared at him, his face impassive.

"Why, exactly, would we want the Avengers to join our ranks?" he asked.

"Well," Freeman's voice wavered. "As I said before, it would provide a benefit to our recruitment numbers…"

"Which are doing fine," Adoniram said. "Better than ever. We don't need the Avengers. Suddenly turning around at this point would probably hurt our recruitment rather than help it. So, try again. Why should we enlist the Avengers into our ranks?"

"I…" Freeman spoke slowly, sweat forming on his brow. "I think they could be an asset to us."

"How?"

"Well, think about what they can do," Freeman said. "They were able to stop the apocalypse all by themselves. Don't you think that could be useful, particularly against the Kree?" Adoniram stood up. His voice took on a dark tone.

"Do you question my abilities, Brother Duane?" A panic-stricken look consumed Freeman's face.

"Of course not, Brother Daniel," he said. "Everyone knows you're the profit; the only one who can lead us to ascension."

"Then why do you suggest I seek help from those who thwarted our day of reckoning?"

"Not help," Freeman said. "Just support."

"That's the same thing," Adoniram pointed out.

"Let me explain myself better," Freeman said before taking a deep breath. "I'm not suggesting that they could do anything that you can't or that they're better than you in any way. However, the day of ascension is fast approaching. Don't you think we need a bit of an insurance policy?"

"An insurance policy?" Adoniram questioned.

"Yes," Freeman said. "To protect us from the Kree should they try to stop us like last time." Adoniram had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His mythology was biting him on the ass again. Nonetheless, he acted the part and made sure that rage was evident in his tone.

"That won't happen again," he snapped. "I won't let it."

"I know," Freeman said. "But we have to take precautionary steps."

"We have the RCMP," Adoniram pointed out.

"But, are they enough?" Freeman questioned. "Are they enough against the might of the Kree?"

"**This is enough!**" Adoniram's voice was booming. Freeman looked as though his heart stopped beating for a moment. "I will not have you questioning my methods in such a manner. I will not align myself with demons and false profits, nor will I align the church with them. Doing so would jeopardize our ascension. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Brother," Freeman said. "I didn't mean…"

"What?" Adoniram questioned. "You didn't mean to suggest we commit a cardinal sin?"

"Of course, I didn't," Freeman said. "I was only thinking of the good of the church."

"Well, think harder next time," Adoniram said. "And maybe don't suggest something that will damn us all to another life cycle in these wretched Terran forms." Slowly, Freeman nodded.

"Alright," he said. "I understand. I'm sorry, Brother, for even thinking that in the first place. Can you forgive me?"

"Possibly," Adoniram said. "Do you have anything else to report as far as the Avengers are concerned?"

"The Christine Everhart interview aired," Freeman said. "The public consensus isn't entirely in yet, but she didn't exactly paint them in a good light. They included clips of Banner, Barton, and Romanoff becoming upset or agitated at certain questions and the footage of Stark walking out." Freeman shrugged. "It might not make a huge difference, but it's a start." Adoniram nodded even though he didn't find that tidbit of information satisfying enough.

"Anything else?" Freeman hesitated a moment before shaking his head.

"No, Brother. That's all I have." For a moment, Adoniram raised an eyebrow. Something in the way he said that didn't sound convincing like he was holding something back. However, Adoniram didn't want to question Freeman further. He just wanted him out of his sight.

"That is all, Brother Duane," he said. "You may take your place for the start of the service." Freeman nodded and gave a bow.

"I thank you for hosting me in your presence, Brother Daniel," he said.

"And I, you, Brother Duane," Adoniram said. "You are dismissed."

Freeman then straightened up, turned, and exited the room. Salinas shut the door behind him once he was gone. Turning to Adoniram, his face was full of pure irritation.

"Oh God is he an idiot," he said. "He spent half the week trying to convince me that recruiting the Avengers and then he screamed at me when it didn't work. If I never had to be in the same room with him again, it'd be too soon."

"Was this before Stark went missing?" Adoniram asked.

"Yes," Salinas said. "While I had him at my house, I figured, 'what the hell, might as well give it a shot.' That ended up being a colossal mistake. I left the room to call Freeman, and when I came back, Stark and my maid were gone."

"Stark and your maid?" Adoniram questioned.

"Yeah," Salinas said. "My first thought was that they went to her room to fuck, so I headed down to the basement. Didn't find them, but I did find this." From behind his back, Salinas pulled out a small cardboard box that he'd been holding the entire time and handed it to Adoniram.

Opening the box up, Adoniram found it to fill with black foam. There was a cylindrical indentation in the foam, clearly meant to be holding something breakable. Laying across the indentation was a card. Picking it up, Adoniram brought it close to his face so he could read it.

The venom of the _M. Kingi_ (A.K.A the Kingslayer Jellyfish) altered to be broken down by digestion. Completely flavorless. Drink directly or add to food or beverages.

Adoniram frowned.

"What is this?" he asked.

"This," Salinas said, gesturing to the box. "Is an assassination attempt."

"From Stark?" Adoniram asked, pure astonishment leaking into his voice.

"Stark," Salinas said. "The Avengers as a whole, S.H.I.E.L.D., a combination of all three? I don't know. It could be any of them. All I know is that it can't be a coincidence that I find this in my house right after Stark disappears." Adoniram's mouth formed a hard line.

"This is unprecedented," he said.

"Completely," Salinas agreed. "I had to throw out all of the food in my house just to be on the safe side."

Adoniram was shocked. He had no idea how to respond to such an attack. That was until he remembered a specific project the Church had been working on. He realized that would be perfect. A response as old as civilization itself. The old Hammurabi Code; an eye for an eye.

"Have you spoken to our Sister in Newark?" Adoniram asked. "The one in charge of Apollo."

"Yes," Salinas said. "I got an update from her yesterday. They've nearly completed the testing phase. They're predicting that it will be ready for mass distribution within the next week or two."

"Really," Adoniram said. "Do you think they could benefit from one last test?"

"I'm not sure," Salinas said. "I'd have to discuss it with them again. Why? What are you suggesting?"

"I think," Adoniram said. "That we have found the perfect guinea pigs for their next experiment." Salinas slowly started reflecting Adoniram's smile, the meaning of his words clicking in his mind.

"I think that could be arranged," he said.

"Make it so," Adoniram said, clapping his hands over one of Salinas'. "Now, I must urge you to take your place for the service. We are going to begin soon."

"I noticed that attendance to this service was mandatory," Salinas said. "Is this another practice run?"

"Yes," Adoniram confirmed. "It is, but please don't say anything to anyone."

"I never do," Salinas said. "But when the time comes for real…"

"Then you know what to do." Salinas nodded before turning to exit the room, leaving Adoniram alone.

Sitting back down in front of the mirror, Adoniram stared himself down. He then turned his gaze to the yellow legal pad in front of him. He spent all night working on this speech, with a little insight from Marx. Although this would be the standard run-through of the procedure, he liked changing up the foreword speech every time. It kept things from getting too dull. He read through the address one last time before he got up and proceeded to the backstage area.

He could hear the dim hum of voices whispering as he moved through the hall, wondering why this mandatory service had been called. Adoniram did not feel the least bit guilty for what he was about to tell them. All his parishioners needed to be prepared for the worst, whether it came to pass or not. Besides, what would a dictatorship be if you didn't inject some fear into it?

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**Thank you to everyone who's checked out this story so far! It means a lot! :)**

**I hope you guys are still enjoying this story and aren't mad that this chapter was entirely OCs. (Well, one character from the comics, one character I've taken from _lonelygirl15_ and put my twist on, and one OC, but still I doubt you've recognized which is which.) This chapter is meant to serve as a bridge of sorts to what's coming next, so hopefully, you don't mind. **

**Remember kids, give Rhodey some love today! (Even though he's stubborn and I can't find a way to write him in!)**

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**Originally uploaded to FFN on 10/6/19.**


	21. Another One Bites the Dust

**This chapter can alternatively be titled "fuck, I'm about to catch up with myself!"**

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**Sunday, January 29th, 2012**

Clint stared at the spinning wheel on his laptop's screen. The clock in the corner of the screen declared it to be 9:30 PM. Considering the hours' time difference, it should only be 8:30 back at the farm. It was perfect timing. Laura would have put the kids to bed half an hour ago, but she would still probably be up, likely doing schoolwork on the office computer. Although he knew he probably shouldn't be interrupting her study time, it seemed to be the only time they could talk without running the risk of being interrupted by the kids, who he didn't want to mention the D-O-G in front of.

Yes, he was only now talking to Laura about the dog. In his defense, this was truly the first opportunity he had gotten to do so. When they arrived at the tower, Clint couldn't connect to the hidden server network he used to contact Laura. He tried on both his laptop and his phone but had no luck with either. The best he could guess with his limited technical skills was that Stark's AI was blocking the signal from going out. No matter what Clint did, it wouldn't connect and that frustrated him beyond reason. For obvious reasons, he couldn't ask Stark to fix this for him, so he ended up having to contact Hill.

Hill couldn't come that day, which put Clint into a pretty sticky situation. He had told Stark that the dog would be gone within a day, but he couldn't bring the dog to the farm without discussing it with Laura first. He knew he was already going to be in hot water for having the dog in the first place. If he showed up with the dog and the kids saw it before he had a chance to talk to her about it, he'd be in much worse trouble. So, he had no choice but to wait for Hill. Fortunately, Stark had been shut up in his and Cap's apartment since Wednesday, dealing with his withdrawal symptoms. He hadn't seen the dog, and thus probably didn't know it was there and no one else had questioned him on it. At least, not yet.

Thankfully, Hill could finally get away from S.H.I.E.L.D. long enough to help him out. She provided him with a work around in the form of an innocent looking USB flash-drive. All he had to do was plug it into his laptop and he'd be able to connect to the network. Clint frowned when she gave it to him. It couldn't be that easy, especially considering the computer system he was trying to get around was designed by Tony Stark. However, he did need to get in contact with Laura, so he had to go with it no matter how skeptical he was.

He was able to connect to the network without a problem, but the real test would be getting the call through. He normally didn't video chat with Laura. The quality wasn't always the best and there was always a noticeable lag in the transmission. If he asked Laura a question, it would be a few seconds before he'd get a response, and not through any fault of either of them. He'd rather call her, but Hill couldn't give him a work-around that was compatible with his phone. This was the best she could do. He could try IM or e-mail, but that felt too impersonal. Video chatting was probably his best choice, especially because it had the bonus of being as close to an in-person conversation as they could possibly get.

After a few moments of circling, the connecting screen disappeared, replaced with nothing but a static blackness. For a moment, Clint was alarmed and began searching the screen for any indication of what went wrong. Then Laura's smiling face appeared onscreen and Clint was able to let out a breath of relief.

"Well, this is a surprise," she said. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon." Clint saw her push what looked to be a textbook and a notebook to the side, offscreen, confirming that that he was in fact interrupting her study time. A pang of guilt ran through him, even though Laura didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest. "What's up, hot stuff?" Clint cracked a smile.

"Nothing much, buttercup," he said. "Are the kids in bed?"

"Yup," she said, popping the "p." "They went down easy tonight. Probably because I let them run around in the snow for most of the afternoon."

"You did?" Clint asked.

"Yup," Laura said with a nod.

"But that would mean…" Clint paused for dramatic effect, looking distraught. "Don't tell me you had hot chocolate without me." Laura laughed.

"I'm sorry, honey," she said. "But we did." Clint threw a hand over his heart.

"Gah," he groaned. "Drive a knife through my heart, why don't you?"

"We had to warm up somehow," she said. "If it makes you feel better, I forgot to pick up marshmallows at the store and we had to do without."

"It actually does help a bit. Thank you." Laura laughed again. Clint smiled as he thought of the best way to transition into the topic of the dog. "Listen, there's something I wanted to talk to you about…"

**_Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!_**

Clint froze. His eyes went straight to the door. For privacy purposes, Clint had gone into his en suite bathroom to make the call. That way, there was less of a chance that someone would walk in on him. (Though, to be honest, the only person that he would think would barge into his room without knocking was Natasha and she already knew about Laura and the kids. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.) Also, he didn't want Laura to see the puppy before he got a chance to tell her about him and he thought it would be easier to lock the puppy out of the bathroom than it would be to trap him in there, but the dog was proving him wrong. He could hear him using his one front paw to scratch at the door, crying as if he were mortally wounded. Clint set the laptop on the ground and went to open the door.

On the other side, the puppy sat waiting for him. Despite the agonizing pain his cries would suggest he was in, Clint could see that the dog was perfectly fine. Too fine, in fact. He was trying to play innocent, but he wasn't going to fall for it. He picked the puppy up and held him so that they were eye-level with each other. Instantly, the puppy started licking Clint's nose.

"Hey," he said. "No, no, no. Don't try to butter me up. You know what you did was bad. Very, very bad."

"Clint?" He could hear Laura's worried tone through the laptop speakers. "What's wrong?"

Clint sighed. He knew if he locked the dog out again, he'd just go back to scratching on the door. He looked the dog directly in the eyes.

"I didn't want to tell her like this," he said. "Remember, you're making me do this."

Turning around, Clint sat back down on the spot on the tile floor he had been occupying before. Pulling the laptop up into his lap, he gave Laura a full view of the puppy.

"I rescued a dog." A surprised look crossed Laura's face.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, wow. When did this happen? How?"

"While we were in D.C.," he explained. "I found him in an alleyway eating out of a Lucky's Pizza box."

"How appropriate." Laura was smiling. That was good. "I take it he doesn't have a family?"

"No," Clint said. "He didn't have any ID tags and he's a bit too little to be out on his own. I think someone might have gotten rid of him because of his leg."

"His leg?" Laura questioned.

"Yeah," Clint said. "I'm not sure you can tell with the camera's quality, but…" He lifted the dog so she could see the underside of his chest and more importantly his front legs. …Or rather leg and stump. "He only has three legs." Laura let out a sympathetic "oh."

"Poor little guy," she said. "Do you know if he was born like that or if…"

"Pretty sure he was born like this," Clint said. "He didn't have any blood on him, and I can't feel anything when I touch it…" Clint moved his hand over the stump, but immediately pulled it back when the dog gave a yelp of displeasure. "Yeah, he was born like this. He's just sensitive about it."

"That's understandable," Laura said.

"So, what do you think?" She sighed.

"I think you should have come to me about this sooner." Clint winced a bit.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I tried to get in contact sooner, but the network wasn't working."

"Really?" Laura said. "That never happens." Sure, the signal lagged a bit and the cameras didn't always have great quality, but they never had trouble connecting to the network outright.

"Stark's computer system was blocking the signal," Clint explained. "Hill found a work-around, so it shouldn't be a problem again."

"Good," Laura said.

"So, the dog…" He could hear Laura take a deep breath as he trailed off.

"I see no reason why we can't," she said. "I mean, this is a farm. There's plenty of space and the kids can keep him busy."

"Is that a yes?" Clint asked.

"It's a yes," Laura confirmed. Clint gave a little fist pump. "I just can't help but be a little concerned."

"About the dog?" Clint asked.

"About you." Laura clarified.

"Don't be," Clint said. "I'm fine. We haven't started going on missions yet, so there's nothing to be worried about."

"I know," Laura said. "But I'm still going to worry, especially with how impulsive you've been lately."

"Impulsive?" Clint questioned. "What are you talking about?" Laura shrugged.

"I've just noticed you've been quicker to make decisions," she said. "Like you're just going with whatever pops into your mind first."

"Well, yeah," Clint said. "The first instinct is the gut instinct; always dependable."

"That may be true," Laura said. "But is it always the best one to go with?"

_No, probably not._ Clint's mind supplied before he could even really think about it. He frowned. Deep down, he knew that was right. However, a small part of him questioned whether it was right or if it was even his own thought. The onslaught of his worst fears didn't follow, so maybe it was. …Or maybe it was planted there. Could anything he thought be his own thought or could it all have been planted there by someone; by Loki. A cold shudder ran down his spine.

"Clint?" Laura's voice brought him back to reality, as it so often did. He focused back on the screen where Laura's image remained visible; a strained smile on her face. "Just promise me you'll be careful." Clint did his best to smile for his wife as he attempted to reassure her.

"I always am." Slowly, her grin became more genuine. He was glad she believed him, because he sure as hell didn't. "I should let you go. I think I've monopolized enough of your time."

"You never could," Laura said.

"Try to tell your professor that," Clint said. "Or whoever it is on the other side of the computer that grades your homework and reads your papers."

"My professor," Laura clarified.

"Well, duh." Clint tapped the side of his head in a sort of "I should have known that," gesture. Laura laughed. "I love you, babe."

"I love you, too," she said. "I'll give the kids a hug and kiss for you."

"And tell them I love them extra much." Laura nodded.

"Will do."

"Can't give you an ETA, but I should be back to drop off this little guy soon." He just needed to get access to a quinjet, which he knew wouldn't be too hard.

"I'm looking forward to it," Laura said. "I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon," Clint promised. "Goodbye, sweetheart."

"Goodbye." A moment later Laura's face disappeared and was replaced by a "call disconnected" screen. Clint put the laptop down and leaned back against the wall.

Laura hadn't freaked out about the dog – which was good – but he was starting to feel uneasy about her assessment of his behavior the more he thought about it. He wasn't that impulsive, was he? No, he couldn't be. Sure, he could admit that he may be rushed to decide a few times recently, but he would hardly call that impulsive. Besides, it hadn't hurt anyone, right?

_Wrong._ The events of the previous week quickly came to mind. Stark had admitted it was Clint's murder prank that pushed him to take his first drink of the day, setting into motion a domino effect that currently had Stark writhing in agony two floors above him. He couldn't help but feel some guilt over that. Plus, he threatened Lara's ex over the phone without really thinking about it first. That was probably impulsive and not smart. If the guy truly was a psycho, he could take that as a challenge. Luckily, nothing had come of that yet as far as he could tell. Lara had seemed fine for the two minutes they saw her on Friday before she rushed downstairs to cover for Stark, so maybe he had left her alone.

A paw on his chest and a soft whine reminded Clint of the other likely impulsive thing he did in the last week; the dog. Clint scratched his ear, giving him the attention, he had so desperately needed. Admittedly, things had fallen into place a lot better than they could have. Laura was willing to keep the dog and Stark wasn't aware that Clint had kept the dog at the tower longer than he said he would. He got lucky there. However, he did have to admit that he didn't consider the potential consequences in the three seconds between seeing the dog and deciding to rescue it.

Natasha did, though. She kept pointing out all the reasons that brining the dog back to the hotel with them was a bad idea. Even when Clint brought up the "we can't just leave him out here" argument, Natasha pointed out that they didn't have to; they could easily drop him off at the nearest emergency vet's office or animal shelter. Clint didn't listen to her, though, and just went ahead with what his gut was telling him to do. Was that true impulsiveness or just stupidity? It was probably a mixture of both.

Being careful not to hurt or jostle the puppy as he stood up, Clint went to leave the bathroom. He was probably overthinking it. Maybe he'd have a clearer head in the morning.

* * *

**Monday, January 30th, 2012**

Lara carefully pulled her headphones out of the small pocket in her messenger bag. Slipping them into her ears, she tapped the play button on the screen of her iPod and was met with the beautiful sounds of Queen. Her brother had suggested that she put her music on when she walked into Avengers Tower to avoid having to listen to the Peoples Unity Church's bull. Lara didn't like the idea, mostly because it would take away from her ability to be aware of her surroundings. She'd be an easy target for assault and robbery, especially in New York. Her brother then told her that she was overly paranoid and that nothing would happen between the entrance to the tower and the elevators, especially with the Avengers **right there**. So, Lara relented and agreed to at least try it.

When she tried it on Friday, she encountered no problems. Granted, the People's Unity Church hadn't been there that day, so there hadn't been a point to it, but at least she wasn't attacked and mugged. This time she was hoping that things would go much the same. They didn't.

She had her iPod queued up to "Another One Bites the Dust." Not her favorite Queen song, but good at drowning out background noise in her experience. Quickly after entering the building, a commotion could be heard. Lara started turning her iPod up, but as she kept going, the commotion grew louder. Turning her iPod up to the maximum volume, she finally saw what was causing all the noise.

Of course, it was the Peoples Unity Church. SI security and the NYPD were escorting them out, causing the commotion. Lara forced herself to keep her eyes fixed forward and focused on the lyrics rather than the yelling. For one second, she thought that she heard someone calling her name, but she dismissed it as a trick of the mind. …Until she heard it again and again, and it quickly fell into time with the music.

"Lara!"

_"Another one bites the dust"_

"Lara!"

_"Another one bites the dust_

_ And another one gone, and another one gone_

_ Another one bites the dust_

_ Hey, I'm gonna get you, too_

_ Another one bites the dust"_

"Lara!"

She could tell it was coming from behind her, but she didn't turn around. Everyone she wanted/needed to talk to was upstairs. It didn't hit her though that the person was calling her by her first name, not her last name, which was a pretty important distinction. Outside of the Avengers and Pepper, no one she worked with really called her "Lara." They usually just stuck to "Conroy." (Although, occasionally Tony called her "Larissa" even though wasn't her name.) It didn't click with her until she stepped in the elevator, turned around, and saw Dante being pushed back by the police.

Initially freezing for a second, Lara hit the button to close the elevator doors (probably angering a few of the people trying to get onboard.) Pausing for a few seconds to catch her breath, Lara hit the button for the floor Cabe's office was on. It was clear they needed to have a chat.

* * *

"So, what do you think?" Clint asked Natasha as they stepped off the elevator. From the way her mouth was set, he knew he wasn't going to like what she was about to say.

"I think she's right," she said. "At least a little. You **have** been a bit quick to act lately."

"So, it's not just her?" Natasha frowned.

"No, it's not." Clint's shoulders fell and he nodded. "Has something been wrong lately?"

"You mean other than the Loki stuff?" Natasha sighed.

"The Loki stuff," she said. "Coulson, anything else… If any of it's bothering you, you know you can talk about it, right?"

"All of it's bothering me," Clint admitted. "It's like a bunch of bees decided to build a hive in my head. It's a constant, unending buzz. I can ignore it most of the time, but the rest…"

"Have you talked to anyone about it?" Natasha asked.

"You and Lisa, obviously," Clint said.

"Outside of that," Natasha said. "A professional? Like, maybe Andrew or one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. councilors?"

"No," Clint said. "I'm not wasting my time just ho have someone parrot back everything I already know. Besides, I don't think May would like me talking to her ex."

"It doesn't necessarily have to be him," Natasha said. "I was just using him as an example." Clint gave her a look like "yeah, sure" and Nat rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying it would probably be beneficial to talk to someone who knows how to deal with serious trauma."

"I just said I talked to Lisa," Clint said.

"She knows how to deal with **children's** serious trauma," Natasha said. "And even though you act like a child most of the time, it's not the same thing." Clint let out a hiss.

"Ow," he said. "That burned." Natasha shrugged.

"Don't talk to me if you don't want to hear the truth."

The two of them turned to walk through the archway leading to the kitchen. When they did, they came upon a surprise. Sitting on one of the barstools in front of the island counter was Stark. Other than the facts that he was wearing sunglasses indoors, his complexion was paler than normal, and he looked like he dropped ten pounds, he looked much more put together than the last time they saw him. He was nursing a cup of coffee while Cap stood in front of one of the two stovetops and looked to be scrambling eggs. Natasha took the lead in approaching him.

"Stark," she said. "You're looking better." He made a noise of disagreement.

"Wish I could say I was feeling better," he said. Natasha nodded.

"You're over the worst, though?" Stark shrugged.

"I haven't thrown up since early yesterday morning," he said. "So that has to be an improvement."

"We're still keeping breakfast light, though," Cap said. "Scrambled eggs and toast. Do you guys want any?"

"Yes, please," Natasha said.

"What's this?" Clint took notice of a pile of cards and envelopes that had collected at the end of the counter. He had started to thumb through it when Stark said "mail, don't touch." Instantly he dropped whatever he was holding.

"But you're doing a lot better?" Natasha asked, steering the conversation back to Stark.

"Pretty much," he said. "Why?"

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about something later?" Clint could see the space between Tony's eyebrows narrow.

"About what?" he asked.

"It's nothing serious," Natasha assured. "But I still need to talk to you about it."

"Okay," he said. "Let's talk about it now."

"I think we should talk about it in private," Natasha said.

"Why?" Stark asked. "If it's not serious why can't we talk about it now?"

"It's just a matter that would be best discussed in private," Natasha said.

"Okay," Stark said. "What's so private that we can't discuss it in front of our boyfriends?" Natasha rolled her eyes and covered her face with the palm of her hand. Clint could hear Cap give a warning "Tony" before he dropped out of the conversation entirely. Rather than be a part of the argument, he turned his attention back to the mail pile.

Honestly, there wasn't much interesting there. All the envelopes were addressed to "Tony Stark" or some variation. (Anthony Stark, Anthony E. Stark, Anthony Edward Stark, A. E. Stark, Iron Man, etc.) so it wasn't like he could open it. That would be a federal crime. However, there was one letter that caught his attention; one that was addressed to the Avengers.

The words were written in careful handwriting with blue ink on a crisp, white envelope. The stamps on it indicated that whoever had wrote the letter had paid for it to be shipped overnight express and the return address indicated they lived in Newark, New Jersey (or at least went to school there.) However, they didn't leave a name along with the address. Curious, Clint flipped it over to open it. That's when he saw the most interesting thing about the letter; the sender had sealed it with a kiss.

Right in the dead center of the envelope was a dark pink-stained impression of some woman's lips, which was odd considering the letter's return address indicated that it had come from a school. Clint hesitated a moment. He knew Laura wasn't going to like that. Despite that, he couldn't ignore the part of his brain screaming at him to "just do it," so he tried to wedge his finger between the envelope and its flap.

Keyword: **tried**. He couldn't. It was like they used cement as glue. Eventually, he saw opening the letter the traditional way wasn't going to work, so he flipped it vertically and tried to open it from the end. He could feel it had a little give, but he was having trouble ripping it with only his hands, so he tried using his teeth. With one good pull, the letter opened, sending white powder flying everywhere.

* * *

**Thank you to Sanisra on AO3 for leaving a comment! It really means a lot!**

**Yeah, as I write the author's note to this chapter, I'm currently writing Chapter Twenty-Six, which makes me nervous... I like having chapters finished ahead of time because I know how frustrating it can be to have to wait for an author to get their shit together to post a new chapter. I'm going to apologize in advance as if I do end up catching up with myself, then it might get a little frustrating waiting for me to put out chapters. Hopefully, that won't come to pass, though.**

**Remember kids, in 1492, Columbus got us all a day off school. (Happy Indigenous Peoples Day!)**

* * *

**Originally uploaded on 10/14/19.**


	22. Code Orange

**I was in the middle of writing another chapter when I remembered I'm supposed to post this chapter today. Oops.**

* * *

**Monday, January 30th, 2012**

Clint looked up to see the others staring at him. When the letter opened, it made a loud ripping noise. Everyone turned to look just as the powder flew black in his face. Their expressions were just as shocked as his own. Stark spoke first.

"Holy fuck," he exclaimed.

"Clint, whatever you do, don't touch your face!" Clint almost did it out of sheer confusion, but then he realized Natasha only ordered him to do that because the powder had completely covered his face.

_Terrific,_ he thought while he watched her jump out of her seat and rush to the wall-mounted phone.

"Are the emergency codes the same here as they were in Malibu?" she asked Stark over her shoulder.

"No," he said. "It's Pepper's birthday times the year she was born."

"Which would be…"

"Nine-eight-nine-nine-seven-six." Natasha nodded and punched the numbers into the dial pad.

"I don't understand," Cap said. "What just happened?"

"Clint just got anthraxed," Stark explained. "That's what happened."

"'Anthraxed?'" Cap questioned. "Like the disease?"

"Yup," Clint said. "Powdered, processed, and ready to kill." As he was speaking, Clint felt some of the powder fly into his mouth. Thinking fast, he ran over to the sink and started trying to spit it up as best he could. "**Oh God**," he groaned.

"Don't talk either," Natasha ordered from the phone. "It's on your lips. It'll go into your mouth."

"Gee," Clint said between hacks. "I didn't realize that. Thanks for the helpful advice." Natasha rolled her eyes before her attention was taken away by the other end of the line picking up.

"Medical emergency on floor P1," she said calmly into the handset. "A letter was opened containing a fine white powder. Possible exposed include Agents Barton and Romanoff, Captain Rogers, and Tony Stark."

"JARVIS," Stark said. "Start lockdown procedures. No one comes into or out of the penthouse unless they're CDC or authorized by me or the CDC."

"Right away, sir," the AI responded while Cap began flipping switches to turn the stove burners and all the other appliances off.

"What's the next step?" he asked while he did so.

"In about thirty seconds, almost all of the utilities to the penthouse will be cut off," Stark explained. "Air, water, and arc reactor power will be shut down. We'll only be getting just enough power from the emergency generators to keep the lights on and JARVIS running."

The loud **_clang_** of grinding gears made Clint jump. He took a few steps backward to look out into the hallway. A few feet away, he could see what looked to be metal curtains lowering over each of the windows.

"It'll also leave enough power to lower the emergency blinds. Sorry." Clint would be angry at Stark for not mentioning that a little sooner, but it looked like it had genuinely slipped his mind. Besides, he had other things he could be focusing his emotional energy on, like not panicking.

Honestly, that was easier said than done. His thoughts were a rampaging cacophony of fears and regrets. The only thought that he could clearly make out amongst the noise was "why the fuck did I do that?" Granted, it wasn't a given that if you open a letter, you should expect it to be filled with a possibly deadly powder, but at the same time, Clint couldn't remember why he opened the letter to begin with. He just went ahead and did it without thinking.

_Crap._

He was only distracted by a sudden deafening silence. Clint's heart skipped a beat as his hands went straight to his ears. He couldn't feel any injuries and when he pulled his hands away, he didn't see any blood. However, it wasn't until he heard Stark speak up that he could put that fear to rest.

"That was the air," he said. "And power should be going right…" Almost on cue appliances started flipping off and the lights dimmed. Natasha hung up the phone and turned back to the rest of the team.

"Emergency protocols have been initiated," she reported. "All civilians are evacuating via the north-west and north-east stairwells. Your head of security advised that we should evacuate to the basement using the south-west stairwell."

"Smart," Stark said. "That stairwell is reinforced to withstand anything and herding everyone away from there will reduce our chances of accidentally contaminating someone."

"Why the basement?" Clint asked. "Wouldn't it be less of a risk for us to stay here?"

"Because there are emergency showers downstairs," Stark explained. "If we're not infected already, we need to get any remaining traces of the powder off us fast. Technically, we do have a few emergency showers in the lab, but the CDC will probably want the entire place cleared and quarantined."

"So, we head downstairs, shower, and evacuate?" Cap asked.

"Not exactly," Stark said. "After we shower, we're going to have to wait for the CDC to make their assessment. They're probably going to quarantine us, too, since we were likely exposed."

"What about Banner?" Natasha asked. "He's upstairs working in his office."

"Crap," Stark said. "JARVIS, tell Bruce what's going on and make sure he hasn't been exposed."

"Dr. Banner has already been notified of the need to evacuate," JARVIS reported. "He is already doing so through the north-east stairwell. It is highly unlikely that he's been exposed in any way."

"Let's hope so," Stark said.

"Either way, we need to start moving now," Natasha said. "We don't know how fast-acting this thing is. We could start showing symptoms before we even make it down there."

"Right," Cap said. "Let's get moving."

The four Avengers started making their way to the south-west stairwell. It was eerily quiet when they stepped inside, as it would be since they were the only ones using it. Clint's mind filled the silence by tallying the moments he likely had left to live. Unsurprisingly, it came out to be far too few.

* * *

Lara sat patiently by the front security desk. As soon as she arrived, she was informed that Cabe was attending to another matter and she would have to wait. She understood. Cabe was a busy woman and the Peoples Unity Church's nonsense wasn't making her life any easier. Lara didn't mind the wait, though she was texting Tony and Pepper to let them know she had taken her detour and to find out the game plan for the day. If she was going to be covering for Tony again, she was going to be in a crunch for time, but she wasn't leaving until she talked to Cabe. After all, she wasn't going to put her personal safety ahead of anything else.

She had just started composing her second message when it became clear that something wasn't right. She heard the phone at the front desk ring. That was completely normal. What wasn't normal was the grim look she saw on the receptionist's face when she looked up. When he got off the phone, he stood up and whistled to get everyone's attention.

"Code Orange, floor P1," he announced. "This is not a drill! Code Orange, floor P1!"

Instantly the room exploded into a state of chaos. People began to run about, grabbing things and talking over each other. Some went hastily to dial numbers on the desk phones while others donned bright green safety vests and headed for the exits. Lara watched all of this in a stunned silence.

First thing was first, she had to urge herself not to panic. For most people, panicking would mean running around and screaming hysterically; being unhelpful and endangering others. For Lara, it meant putting an end to the problem as fast as possible by any means necessary. Of course, this wasn't always the right course of action and she was aware of that. On Friday, she and Pepper had a conversation about her reaction to Tony being drunk at the gala and after discussing it further with her friend, Todd, and her brother, she decided that it would probably be beneficial for her to take a step back for a moment and pay attention to what she was doing any time that an emergency came up, which considering that she worked for Iron Man would be pretty often. Taking a deep breath, Lara started to break down what she knew in her head.

First, P1 stood for penthouse floor one, meaning the Avengers were somehow involved with this emergency. Great. Secondly, the receptionist had called a "Code Orange." Lara couldn't remember what that was. She knew all the codes to activate emergency protocols (which were largely numeric) but their technical names eluded her.

She knew "Code Gray" as it got called often; it signaled a combative person somewhere in the building and an extension of that was "Code Silver" – a combative person with a weapon. "Code Green" was a situation involving the Hulk and she only remembered that because Tony and Bruce sat her down shortly after the Battle of New York to explain to her what she should do if she found herself caught in the middle of such a situation. Luckily, that hadn't happened (**yet**.) However, none of this helped her identify what a "Code Orange" was.

Lara sat there for several minutes puzzling over the problem. While she did, security officers continued to bustle about, following procedures to a T. Slowly, they started trickling out of the room to do their assigned duties. It wasn't until there was only one other person left in the room with her that someone finally caught that she wasn't moving.

"Hey!" Lara looked up as soon as the man spoke. She noticed that he was halfway out the door and pulling a safety vest on. "What are you doing?"

"Uh," Lara said, trying to find the right words in English. "Not… Panicking?"

"There's a bio-hazard in the building," the security officer explained. "You need to get out now before you're exposed." Lara's eyes went wide.

"Oh," she said, rushing to stand up and get to the door. She moved so fast that she almost tripped over herself. "Je suis vraiment désolé! I am so sorry! I'm stupid! I didn't mean to…"

"Yeah, yeah," the security officer said. "Just get out before you kill us both."

Lara apologized one last time while walking around the man. Once out the door, she bolted down the hallway and to the stairwell. There was still a steady stream of people making their way down the stairs, so she didn't feel like a **complete** idiot. Falling into step with the crowd around her, she threw her mind back in the zone. That probably was a bad idea given what just happened, but she figured it'd be okay. She'd only be endangering herself by not paying attention, not anyone else.

_Bio-hazard on P1,_ she thought to herself. _What on Earth happened? _The most logical explanation that she could come up with was that there was an accident in Bruce and Tony's lab. The floor number made sense and it wasn't without precedent. There had been accidents there before – the most notable one being the time when Dum-E knocked a canister of chlorine gas into a window made of unbreakable glass, causing the tank to crack and releasing the gas – but even those times there hadn't been an ordered evacuation of the whole building. Lara's teeth clenched as she thought of everything on Earth that could possibly elicit that sort of response. It was very long and wasn't pretty. It even got worse when she considered that the bio-hazard wasn't from Earth.

Although her mind was abuzz with possibilities, Lara didn't miss the sound of her name being called; her first name. She knew panicking and trying to fix the problem from the outset wasn't a good idea, but with Dante she didn't want to take chances, especially when she was on the stairs. Reaching for the bottle of pepper spray she was now keeping clipped to the inside of her pants, she whipped around, ready to attack at the first provocation. In doing so, she smashed into two people and was called a very nasty name. She also found that her panic was undue as it was Bruce who called her name and he was only a few steps behind her.

"Bruce!" She let out a breath of relief despite knowing that given the situation, she shouldn't be relieved at all. "What's going on?" she asked when he caught up with her.

"I was about to ask you that," he said.

"I'm not entirely sure," Lara admitted. "I was waiting for Cabe in the security office. All I know is that there was a bio-hazard on the first floor of the penthouse.

"That's all I've got, too," Bruce said. "I was working in my office when JARVIS told me to evacuate."

A few people got aggravated that they were stopped in the middle of the stairs talking and pushed around them, calling them even more creatively colorful names as they did so. Realizing that they were creating an obstruction, Lara began to reach for Bruce's hand, but then thought better of it. Instead, she jerked her head in the direction of the flow of the crowd.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get out of the way."

"Oh," Bruce said. "Right."

The two of them quickly fell into line with the traffic, managing to stay side-by-side. Lara allowed two flights of stairs to pass before she tried speaking again, out of respect for the people they obstructed.

"So, you have no idea what happened," she said. "JARVIS didn't tell you anything."

"Not even a hint," Bruce said.

"Well," Lara said. "They said in the security office that it was on floor P1. Could something in the lab have broken to cause this." Bruce shook his head.

"That seems like it'd be likely," he said. "But I know we had nothing in there that could pose a threat to the whole building – at least not anymore." He, too, was keenly aware of the chlorine gas incident. "Standard protocol would be to seal up the lab and let the air filtration system do it's job."

"That's what I thought," Lara said with a sigh. "What about the others? Have you seen them?" Again, Bruce shook his head.

"Not yet," he said. "You're the first one I've come across." Lara swallowed hard. Bruce's face softened. "I'm sure they're alright. They're probably just ahead of us. We'll catch up to them outside." Lara slowly nodded, but her face remained pale.

"I hope you're right," she said, keeping her gaze locked in front of her.

* * *

The emergency shower area was large and spacious with five or six rows of showers and about twenty showers in each row. It was meant to accommodate an entire laboratory worth of people, but right now it was only catering to four. As such, the exposed Avengers decided to stay in the same row, though the men kept a respectful distance from Natasha's stall for chivalry's sake.

Despite its large size, the room became steamy rather fast and moisture clung to about every surface. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant and though the anti-bacterial soaps they had to use claimed to be "scent-free" there was a very distinct smell that stuck to all of them after use. Tony, Clint, and Natasha unanimously agreed that it was "old-person smell" while Steve had no idea what they were talking about.

The one good thing was that they were still together, even if they were separated by shower stalls. Although the running water was loud, they could still hear each other and have conversations, which was both a good and bad thing.

"I can't believe this," Tony's voice echoed of the tile walls. "I just got over being poisoned, only to get poisoned again! If this is someone's sick idea of a joke, I'm not laughing!"

"The first time you poisoned yourself," Natasha pointed out. "You only have yourself to blame for that."

"No, I…" Tony paused for a moment. "I don't think that's right…"

"Of course, you think that." It was clear in her tone that she was rolling her eyes.

"No, I thought Jessica… Did I get poisoned three times?"

"Um…" Steve drew out the word in both anxiety and to attempt to make sure his voice sounded reassuring. "I think you've got your mind a little flipped around there, honey."

"I could have sworn…"

"Besides," Steve continued. "It's not like sending poison through the mail world work anyways. The Postal Service would catch something like that, right?" Tension filled the room as the other three Avengers hesitated to respond.

"Well," Tony finally said. "There is some precedent for it."

"What do you mean?" It was clear in his voice that Steve already knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

"You know about 9/11, right?" Natasha asked.

"Yes," Steve responded with a sad note in his voice.

"Well, in the weeks following, someone sent out letters containing anthrax spores to several news media outlets and politicians. Five people were killed, and seventeen others got sick." Steve audibly gagged.

"You okay, babe?" Tony asked.

"Yeah," Steve responded shakily. "That's just so messed up."

"It was messed up," Natasha agreed.

"Is that what you were talking about when you said, 'Barton got anthraxed?'" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Tony said, a hint of guilt in his voice. "Speaking of which, Barton, are you okay?"

"What?" Clint's voice was startled as he was ripped from his thoughts.

"You okay?" Tony repeated. "You've been pretty quiet."

"Oh, yeah," Clint said. "I'm doing just peachy, Stark. I mean, I'm probably going to die of a disease that has no solid cure, but other than that, everything's just wonderful." Natasha sighed.

"You've been vaccinated against anthrax," she pointed out. "Along with every other bio-weapon known to man. You're not going to die. You're going to be fine."

"That's easy for you to say," Clint said. "You weren't an idiot."

"Clint…"

"Besides," he continued. "Who's to say it was anthrax? That powder could have been anything; ricin, plague, smallpox, SARS…"

"Face powder," Natasha countered. "Foot powder, talcum powder, flour, confectioner's sugar…"

"Honey dust!" Tony exclaimed.

"Honey dust?" Clint questioned. "What's that?"

"It's sort of a body powder," Natasha explained. "It makes your skin feel silky smooth and when kissed, it tastes like honey."

"You've used it before?" Tony asked.

"No," Natasha said. "I got a box of the stuff in the mail two Christmases ago. No card."

"Oops…" Tony's voice dropped an octave. "Uh, Steve, you wouldn't happen to remember what I sent you two Christmases ago?"

"I didn't get anything in the mail from you," Steve said. "You gave me all your presents in person."

"Crap," Tony said. "The post office must have screwed up somehow…"

"Wait, doesn't the post office irradiate our mail?" Natasha asked.

"They should," Tony said, his voice lightening up. "And if they don't, we have our own process here in our mail room."

"Is that good?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Tony said. "The mail gets hit with a small amount of radiation. Not enough to hurt people, but enough to kill any viruses and bacteria that could be inside."

"So, whatever was in that letter, it's dead now?" Clint asked.

"If it was alive, yes," Tony said. "If it was flour, then we're doubly in the clear."

"It's dead?" Clint asked carefully; needing Tony to say the exact words.

"It's dead," Tony confirmed. Clint let out a whoop of elation and relief. As it died down, Natasha could be heard laughing.

"Something tells me you should have let him squirm."

* * *

Once the CDC had shown up and deemed them "clean enough," they could exit the showers. Upon their exit, they were given clean undergarments and identical sets of dark blue scrubs to wear. The clothes they had been wearing were taken to be incinerated as soon as they stripped them off. Even if they washed them, there was a chance that particles of the powder could still be clinging to the clothing's fibers and could make someone sick. So, off to the furnace they went. Tony wouldn't be too mad about it if they hadn't taken his sunglasses, too.

He knew the lights down in the basement were bright, but he never realized just **how** bright. Granted, he still had lingering photosensitivity from going through withdrawal, but he had a feeling that he'd be bothered by it regardless. Fluorescent lights tended to be relentless like that, especially that one in the corner that wouldn't stop flickering. He swore he could feel his optic nerve die and he hated himself for doing this to himself.

Once they had gotten dressed, they were led into the next room, which consisted almost entirely of hospital beds and exam stations. Unsurprisingly, in addition to the CDC, S.H.I.E.L.D. had responded to the situation as well. Tony knew it the second he spotted Dr. Smith in the room, and he could guess that a few of the other doctors were S.H.I.E.L.D. as well. Within moments of arriving, the four Avengers were led to separate stations. Tony was sent to Dr. Smith, who was trying to look cheerful under the protective suit she had to wear.

That was, until she set forth to the task. Then her face was complete determination. She ran through the tests fast, which was a relief. Though, at one point during the test, Tony couldn't help but ask, "was that girl okay? Jessica?" Dr. Smith was silent for a moment before answering.

"She's still pretty bad," she admitted. "But with a little R&R, she should be on the mend." Tony nodded.

"Good," he said, feeling a small weight come off him. Although his memories of those two days in D.C. were a bit hazy at best, he did remember that she tried to help him (after hurting him, but still.) Hearing that she was going to be okay gave him one less thing to worry about on a list that was growing with every passing second.

Since Tony finished fast, he could leave the table. He headed straight for Steve, who was seated just a few tables away. Getting close, Tony frowned when he heard the conversation.

"Captain Rogers, I assure you, your blood will be in safe hands." Steve's doctor – Dr. Fox – had an irritated note in his voice, which was nothing new, but hearing it directed at Steve ground against Tony's nerves a bit. "The serum is far too diluted in your system anyway. It would be impossible to separate it out, so you have nothing to worry about."

"I'm still not going to let you draw my blood." Steve's voice was calm and firm; the same one he used when giving orders out in the field. Dr. Fox let out an aggravated sigh.

"The CDC needs a blood sample," he said. "It's the only way they can determine if you're infected."

"I understand that," Steve said. "But I also understand that as a patient, I have the right to refuse any medical test that I feel is unnecessary."

Tony could feel his stomach sink as he recalled telling Steve when he'd just been thawed out of the ice not to let S.H.I.E.L.D. take his blood. At the time, Tony had been concerned that S.H.I.E.L.D. was going to extract the Super Soldier Serum from Steve without his knowledge. He had further explained his concerns later when Steve was in his own apartment and out from under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s thumb. Steve agreed with him and told him that's what he thought his instructions had been about, so he wasn't upset. In fact, he had obviously taken the advice to heart given how adamantly he was refusing to allow them to draw blood, but in this situation, it was posing a problem. The CDC needed blood samples from all of them. It was unavoidable. Tony walked around the curtain to see Steve giving the doctor a stern look.

"Hey," he said. "What's going on?" Steve visibly relaxed the second his eyes met Tony's.

"Hey," he said back. "They want to take a blood sample."

"Yeah, I know," Tony said. "It's fine. Let them do it." Steve raised an eyebrow while his mouth formed a tight line.

"You sure about that?" he asked.

"Absolutely," Tony said. "Just let them do it." Steve still looked hesitant but nodded.

"Alright," Steve said, holding out his arm. "Go ahead."

"Thank you!" Tony glared at the doctor. That wasn't any way to talk to a patient. If he could, Tony would rip off the man's protective suit and breathe on him. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that if he did go through with it, then they'd be stuck in quarantine with the doctor until the CDC made their determination. Instead, he just watched as the doctor unloaded his pent-up irritation on anyone who would listen, and the nurses prepared their equipment. He did, however, take a few steps closer to Steve.

"Hey," he said. "Are you okay?" Steve smiled.

"I'm fine," he said. "I just knew I shouldn't give S.H.I.E.L.D. any blood samples."

"But S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't who you're giving your blood to," Tony pointed out. "I mean, yeah, it's **their** doctors, but your blood is going to the CDC. That's a different animal entirely; not as much to worry about."

"Not as much?" Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Let's put it this way," Tony said. "I highly doubt they'll run off and try to create an army of Super Soldiers. Hell, I don't even think they'll take any more than what they need to test it."

"Okay," Steve nodded. On the other side of him, one of the nurses stood with a needle ready in their hands.

"Are you ready Captain Rogers?" they asked. Steve looked confused for a second before it dawned on him.

"Oh, you don't need to ask," he said. "I'm fine with needles. Go ahead."

"Oh, okay." The nurse let out a huge breath of relief. "Sorry, I always ask. You never know how people are going to react."

"It's a good practice to get into," Steve remarked.

While the nurse cleaned the site, they were going to draw blood from, Tony slipped his hand into Steve's free one. Steve looked at their joined hands, then back at Tony.

"I'm really okay with needles," he assured. "I don't need you to hold my hand."

"I know," Tony said. "But this feels like one of those times I should be supportive. Also, I want to." Steve gave Tony a small smile and a squeeze of his hand. Tony returned it in kind.

When the nurse stuck the needle into Steve, Tony watched with unwavering eyes. Although he was standing a few feet away, he could see that the nurse only extracted a few milliliters of blood – the same amount Dr. Smith had extracted from him. The nurse quickly capped off the sample and taped a cotton ball over the injection point.

"You're all set," they said. "Now all you have to do is wait for further instructions from the CDC."

"Alright," Steve said. "Thank you." The nurse nodded, collected everything they needed, and left. Steve gently ran his thumb over the back of Tony's hand. "Are you okay?" Tony hesitated in responding.

"Define okay." Steve sighed, but it wasn't out of aggravation. It was more like he was sad that his boyfriend had so much wrong with him that he needed to be specific. It made a pang of guilt run through Tony's veins.

"Physically." That gave Tony a little bit of relief. Physically he could define easily.

"I feel like my skull's been cracked open," he said. "And I just went on a three-hour tour of the harbor that went haywire, but I can still say that I'm better than I was twenty-four hours ago."

Which was in fact, true. After days of suffering through the detoxification process, Tony's symptoms had seemingly subsided. He never went into a seizure (which was a miracle) but the affects still weren't pleasant to go through; nausea and vomiting; chills and aches; fevers and delusions… It was as far from a walk in the park as one could get and for as long as he lived, Tony never wanted to go through it again.

The one silver lining was that Steve had stayed by his side the entire time; even through the worst of it. That was like a blessing to Tony. He honestly didn't think he would have made it out alive if Steve hadn't been there. Deep in his heart, Tony knew that he was going to owe him for that forever.

"Are you sure?" Steve was careful as he spoke each word. Tony smiled.

"Yes," he assured. "I'm sure." Steve smiled back.

"You know," he said. "If we weren't potentially poisoned, I'd kiss you right now." Tony laughed.

"I'll put you in for a rain check," he said.

"I hate rain checks," Steve said.

"So, do I," Tony said. "But hopefully this one will come around sooner rather than later." Steve leaned down a bit to rest his forehead on Tony's. Shutting his eyes, Tony immersed himself in the bliss of the moment.

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "Hopefully."

In less than a few moments, their bliss was interrupted. The main doors opened with a loud **_BING!_** Breaking apart, Tony and Steve walked out from behind the curtain to see three men entering the room. Like the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors, they were wearing protective suits, only theirs were thicker and bulkier; like they were made to withstand a nuclear apocalypse. Clearly printed on the left breasts of the suits were the letters "CDC."

"Which one of you opened the letter?" the one in the center said, getting right down to business.

"Right here!" Tony and Steve turned to see Barton coming up behind them with his hand raised. From a few curtains down, Romanoff also emerged to view the unfolding scene.

The two CDC personnel on either side of the man who for all intents and purposes looked to be the leader of the group quickly descended upon Barton. They poked and prodded at him, likely trying to determine if he was showing any early onset signs or symptoms. Barton took it like a champ, although admittedly there seemed to be some anxiety in his voice as he answered the leader's questions. Tony would have paid more attention to what was being said if it wasn't for the sudden lurch that his stomach gave.

He had no idea what had set it off. It could have been anything from the fluorescent lighting to the too-clean smell of the soap to just the lingering effects of detox. Whatever the case, it first caused Tony to double over and uselessly hack before anything came up. For a second, he felt Steve's hand brush against his back, but it got pulled away as someone screamed "don't touch him!" For all the dramatics and hacking, all that came up were bits of half-digested crackers that he had been able to force down the night before. It almost felt like a waste.

Once he was able to stand up straight again, the CDC workers and S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors surrounded him and demanded answers. "How do you feel?" "What symptoms are you experiencing?" "Rate your discomfort on a scale of one to ten." "How close were you to Agent Barton when he opened the letter?" "Did you get any of the powder on you?"

To his credit, Tony tried to answer the questions to the best of his ability, but these doctors were more impatient than any amount of paparazzi he'd ever dealt with in his life. He was just about to be overtaken by the sea of inquiring voices when a loud shout from above silenced the room.

"Enough!" On the other side of the crowd, Dr. Smith stood atop a chair, glaring down at all of them. "Mr. Stark is **my** patient! **I** am the one who will assess his condition; the **only** one! Now, if you would kindly back away from him before he's sick again…"

Instantly, the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors started to back away while the CDC crew hovered close by. Smith hopped down from her chair and rushed over to Tony. Tilting his head up, she began to prod at his glands.

"Alright," she said. "What's changed in the past five minutes?"

"Nothing," Tony said. "Absolutely nothing."

"That can't be right." Smith tilted his head back down so she could look in his eyes. "So far your vitals appear to still be normal…"

"It has to be the result of detox," Tony said. "I'm probably fine."

"We can't know that for sure," Smith said. "Open your mouth, say 'ah!'"

Tony did as she commanded as she ran a few more tests. With each one, the doctor seemed to grow even more confused.

"Everything's the same as it was five minutes ago," she relented. "Perfectly normal."

"Your conclusion, doctor?" The CDC leader did nothing to hide the aggravation and condensation in his voice. Smith sighed.

"Since we don't know what he's been exposed do and there's no definitive way to tell if he's infected or not until the blood tests get back, I'd rather be safe than sorry. I recommend he be put into isolation along with Agent Barton."

"Isolation?" Tony looked around to see Romanoff holding Steve back with a heavy grip on his shoulder. From the way her hand twitched, it was clear that she was having trouble. "Is that really necessary?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Dr. Smith said grimly. "We have to limit their contact with other people until we know for sure that they're not contagious."

"But I can stay with him though, right?" Steve asked, the tiniest hint of desperation in his voice. "I mean, the serum prevents me from becoming sick."

"It doesn't prevent you from becoming a carrier," Smith pointed out. "I'm sorry Captain Rogers, but for your safety and the safety of everyone else, I'm going to have to ask you and Agent Romanoff to remain quarantined here."

Steve turned his gaze to Tony, silently pleading for him to do something. Tony gave him a small smile and tried to step closer but was stopped by the other doctors. That dashed his spirits a little bit, but he still managed to look reassuring.

"I'll be alright," he said. "Don't worry." Steve still looked hesitant. "Just trust me, okay?"

"This isn't a matter of trust," Steve pointed out.

"Still, trust me," Tony said. "I'll be alright." It took a moment, but slowly, Steve nodded. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Okay," he said. "See you in a few hours."

As Tony turned, he could see Romanoff make some sort of gesture and Barton seemingly reciprocate it. After that, the CDC crew began to lead them out of the room. As Tony walked, he desperately hoped that his reassurances wouldn't turn into lies.

* * *

**Thank you to mfaerie32 for the review on FFN and the guest who left kudos on AO3! It really means a lot! :)**

**I'm a hot mess, but what's new? At least I'm not fearing for my life as much anymore.**

**Remember kids, pay attention to what you're doing and always make sure you're not forgetting anything.**

* * *

**Originally posted to FFN on 10/19/19.**


	23. The Forgotten

**So... This is a turn you probably didn't think I would take.**

* * *

**Monday, January 30th, 2012**

"Is it a person?" Bruce asked.

"Yes," Lara said.

"Are they famous?"

"Yes."

"Are they an actor?"

"Yes."

"Have they been in anything recently?"

"Uh," Lara said. "The last movie I saw advertised as staring them was back in 2010." She shrugged. "I don't pay attention, though, so they might have been in something since then."

The two of them were sat on a bench a few blocks out from Avengers Tower. That's where the building's security and the police had herded them off to, so that's where they sat. On the way to the "safe zone" they saw several trucks pass by that had the logos for both the CDC and S.H.I.E.L.D. That gave them some hints as to what was going on, but no solid ideas. At first, they had been sharing theories and speculating, but somehow that had devolved into playing twenty questions. Despite how strange that was, it at the very least kept their minds off how unbearably freezing cold it was, so at least that was a benefit.

"Did they get famous before or after 2006?" Bruce asked.

"They were famous before," Lara said. "But they were famous for a different thing, not acting."

"I'm probably not going to get it then," Bruce said.

"Sure, you can," Lara said. "You have fifteen questions left. Just try to guess."

"Were they in any of the movies we watched with Steve and Tony?" Bruce asked.

"I don't think so," Lara said. "Wait, definitely not. I said he was famous for something before 2006. We've mostly been watching the classics to catch Steve up."

"Hill?" A puzzled expression crossed Lara's face.

"What kind of question is that?"

Bruce's only response was to point behind her. Turning around, she could see the S.H.I.E.L.D. Commander approaching them. Her skin was pale, and her cheeks were red from the cold, but it did nothing to detract look on her face. Lara and Bruce stood to greet her, but before either of them could get a word in, Hill got right down to business.

"Dr. Banner, we need you to come in." For a few seconds, all Bruce could do was blink.

"What?" he eventually forced out.

"There's a situation," she said slowly, as if a lack of understanding was the problem. "We need you to come in."

"I got that," Bruce said. "I mean, what kind of situation? Where are the other Avengers?"

"That can wait until we get to the Hub," Hill said as she gestured for Bruce to follow her.

"Where…?" Bruce started to say before Lara cut him off.

"No, no," she said. "We're not playing this game again."

"What game?" Hill asked.

"The one where someone we know is hurt or in trouble and you can't tell us anything because of 'spy stuff.'" The lower lid of Hill's eye twitched a bit. Lara took some pride in that. "If it's an issue of secrecy…" She turned and took three steps over to the first door she saw and opened it. "Entrez."

With a sigh, Hill did as she said and walked into the building. Bruce followed her and Lara pulled up the rear, shutting the door behind her. The space they were in was tight as it led up to a flight of stairs, which probably led up to a set of apartments. Vaguely, Lara wondered if this was breaking and entering, though she swiftly shrugged the thought off. They were with a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. If someone wanted to throw a trespassing charge at them, Hill could easily make it go away with a flash of her badge. Besides, they had bigger things to worry about. Taking a small step forward, she looked Hill directly in the eyes.

"Alright," she said. "Talk."

Hill told them everything she knew – which she claimed wasn't much, but it was a lot more than what Lara and Bruce had been working off. One of the Avengers (she honestly didn't know which one) opened a letter containing a white powder. They couldn't give them a who, how, or why as they hadn't even begun to co-ordinate their efforts properly, never mind launch an investigation. She couldn't even tell them what the powder even was (though, she did admit anthrax was a suspect.) The most she could tell them was that Steve and Natasha had been quarantined at Avengers Tower while Tony and Clint had been taken to Mount Sinai Hospital to be more closely monitored.

"We have agents doing sweeps of the building to make sure there aren't any more letters," Hill said. "The CDC is dealing with the exposed while we track down the bastards who did this, which is why we need you, Dr. Banner."

"Oh, no," Bruce said, shaking his head. "I understand the others are incapacitated, but I'm not going to unleash the Hulk. Not for this."

"And we weren't expecting you to." Bruce gave Hill a strange look. "We need **your** help Dr. Banner, not the Hulk."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has told me that before," Bruce said. "And I remember the last time not going too well." Hill sighed.

"I understand your hesitance," she said. "But we do need your help. Stark's unavailable for the foreseeable future and you're the greatest mind we've got."

"Thanks," he said. "I really appreciate being the last resort." Gracefully, Hill chose to ignore that comment and moved straight to her final selling point.

"Besides," she said. "We've already called in an expert on cellular biology to examine the letter and your insight would be a great help to her." Bruce narrowed his eyes.

"Who?" he asked.

"One of your colleagues from Culver University," Hill said. "Dr. Elizabeth Samson. Do you know her?" Bruce looked down but nodded.

"You could say that," he said. "Might I ask why?"

"She's the leading mind in her field," Hill said. "We were hoping her expertise would be useful in potentially identifying what the powder is made of."

"And that's the only reason why you asked her specifically?" Hill looked confused.

"Of course," she said. "Why else would we?" Bruce ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath.

"I need a minute to think it over." Hill frowned.

"We don't have a minute," Hill started to say before Lara cut her off.

"Tu pars," she said as she opened the door.

"What?" Hill questioned.

"Leave," Lara clarified. "Now."

"I'm sorry," Hill said, completely affronted. "You can't tell me what to do."

"I just did." Lara stepped closer to Hill, putting a hand on her back and pushing her closer to the door. "Out." Hill protested the entire way, but Lara managed to get her out the door. As she closed it, the realization dawned on her that she just physically assaulted an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. She bit back a groan as she lightly slammed her head against the door.

_I am the most pathetic human being alive._ She took a deep breath before turning back to Bruce.

"Do you want me to leave, too?" Bruce shook his head.

"You're fine," he assured. "Technically Hill was fine, too. I just need a minute."

"Okay," Lara said. "Does this have anything to do with the woman that Hill mentioned?"

"Yes," Bruce said.

"Alright," Lara said. "Who is she?"

"Betty," he said, looking at her oddly, which Lara returned in kind.

"Your ex-girlfriend, Betty?" Lara questioned. "How can you be sure?"

"Well, she was dating a guy with the last name Samson the last time I saw her," he said. "It's pretty safe to assume they got married and she changed he name." Lara raised an eyebrow.

"Her first and last name?" Bruce realized what the problem was.

"Betty is short for Elizabeth," he said, causing Lara's cheeks to turn a light shade of pink.

"Oh," she said. "Well, how was I supposed to know that? Americans have such weird names."

"It's a nickname," Bruce explained. "Like how your name is short for Larissa."

"No, it isn't," Lara said. "It's short for 'my mom didn't give a fuck about me and named me after the first person to walk into the room.'" Lara sighed as Bruce gave her a sorry look. "Alright, name changes aside, what seems to be the problem?" Bruce hesitated to respond for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"I ran because of Betty," he admitted. "When it… When the Other Guy happened… The very first time… She got hurt. She was in a coma for three weeks; in and out of the hospital for six months, and it was my fault. I had other reasons to leave – General Ross and the US Army wanted to weaponize the Hulk – but my biggest reason for leaving was her. I didn't want to hurt her again.

"You went back, though," Lara pointed out. "Two years ago, you went back for her notes and you saw her again."

"Yeah," Bruce said. "I hadn't planned on that. She found me and I just pulled her into that whole mess." Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "I put her in such a bad position. She even tried to sell her mother's necklace to get us enough money to get to New York. I got it back for her, but still…" Bruce lifted his head up, allowing Lara to see the glimmer of sadness in his eyes. "It's just best that I'm not around her. She's safer and better off that way." Lara frowned.

"Self-deprecation isn't the way to solve your problems." Bruce shrugged.

"It's worked for me most of my life," he said.

"Me too," Lara said. "But eventually it comes back to bite you in the ass, like right now." Bruce couldn't help but nod in agreement with that. "You haven't talked to Betty since then, right?"

"No," Bruce said. "I sent her the necklace back and that was it. I moved to Calcutta shortly after." Lara nodded.

"And obviously she's moved on," she pointed out.

"That doesn't bother me," Bruce said. "As long as she's happy, I'm happy for her." Lara broke into a smile. "What?"

"Nothing," she said. "It's just refreshing to hear." After all, it wasn't a statement she heard from men often. "So, you're worried that if you go near her, she's going to get hurt."

"That's part of it," Bruce said.

"What's the other part?" Lara asked.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.," Bruce said.

"Ah," Lara said. "Of course."

"It might be paranoia," Bruce said. "But I can't help but wonder if they have some sort of ulterior motive in asking for her help."

"They're a spy agency," Lara remarked with a shrug. "They almost always do."

"Good point," Bruce said. "I just hope they're not using her as a honey pot to get me to help them.

"That all could be true," she said. "But even if it is, I think you should look at this as an opportunity."

"An opportunity?" Bruce questioned. "For what?"

"To get closure," Lara said. "To put a bookend to that chapter of your life once and for all; to properly say goodbye to her." Slowly, Bruce nodded a bit.

"Maybe you're right," he said. "Maybe I do need that."

"It's a thought," Lara said. "But in the end, I think we both know what you **need** to do." Bruce sighed.

"I know," he said. "We're just stalling the inevitable." Lara walked over to the door, her hand on the knob.

"If it's any consolation, I don't think you'll be putting Betty in any danger by being near her." Bruce scoffed at that.

"Everyone's in danger when they're near me," he said. "That's just a fact."

"I don't feel like I'm in danger when I'm near you." Bruce looked down when she said that.

"You should," Lara shook her head.

"Trust me," she said. "There are much scarier things in this world than the Hulk." With that, she turned the knob and stepped out into the world. However, she couldn't help but add one thing over her shoulder. "By the way, it was Dwayne Johnson I was thinking of."

"Who?"

* * *

The CDC, as it turned out, was incredibly thorough. As soon as Clint and Stark got to the hospital, they were sent to the showers again and were once again given clean garments to change into. Then, they underwent another battery of tests. Not only did they have to give more blood, but they also had to submit urine and saliva samples for good measure. The only consolation was that they got one cookie and a cup of orange juice each and they probably only got those to make sure neither of them fainted from the fluid loss.

Once all the samples were taken and they finished their food, they were led down a long, isolated hallway. The florescent lights illuminated the bare white walls to be startlingly bright, making it impossible to see and seem like the space went on forever. Eventually it came to an end with a set of grey double doors and a doctor clad in protective gear. Despite the grim situation, he greeted them with a handshake and a smile.

"Hello Mr. Stark, Agent Barton," he said. "I'm Dr. John Wayne." Both Clint and Stark's expressions grew alarmed. "Like the actor, not the serial killer. If it makes you feel any better, know I was born a year before he was caught."

"That actually does help a bit," Clint murmured.

"Good to know," Dr. Wayne said. "And you'll be glad to know that you're both in safe hands. We have nothing but the best people trying to narrow down exactly what's happening here."

"And what is happening here?" Stark asked.

"Hopefully, nothing," Wayne said. "But until we can determine that for sure, this is where you'll be staying."

The doctor turned and punched a number into a keypad, causing the double doors to swing open. Inside, the room was divided straight down the middle by a large sheet of vinyl. Each side contained two hospital beds and machines of various purposes. The walls were the same shade of pure white as the hallway, but their retinas were spared the agony of having florescent light bouncing off it. Instead, blacklights shined down from the ceiling and tinged everything a dark shade of blue. Clint frowned as he looked around.

"No TV?" Dr. Wayne shook his head.

"We needed all the electrical outlets available to power the machines," he said. "Unfortunately, you're in for a long wait. It's going to take anywhere from twenty-four to thirty-six hors for the blood test results to come back."

"Of course, it is," Clint said under his breath. The doctor gave them both sympathetic looks.

"Well, you two pick a side and settle in," he said. "All that we ask is that you don't switch sides or try to move the vinyl sheeting while you're in here. We're trying to avoid cross-contamination as much as possible."

"Then why not put us in separate rooms?" Stark asked.

"These are separate rooms." Both Stark and Clint gave the doctor a strange look, but neither wanted to argue the definition of 'separate' right then and there. Instead, they just shook their heads and found their spots. Stark took the bed on the left, and Clint took the one on the right. "Just so you know," the doctor continued. "We will be closely monitoring these rooms via CC TV. The doors off to the sides of each of you lead to a nurses' station. We ask you not to enter those spaces and hit the call button on the remotes connected to the bed if you need something."

"What if we need to use the bathroom?" Clint asked. "I don't see one attached…"

"Just hit the call button on the remote," the doctor instructed. "A nurse will be right in with a bed pan." A look of disgust crossed Clint's face.

"No thanks," he said. "I'll hold it and keep my dignity." The doctor frowned.

"I would have to strongly advise against that, Agent Barton." Clint shrugged and climbed up on the hospital bed.

"I'm already trapped here," he said. "I don't really think I should be forced to give up anything else." The doctor gave Clint what he could only describe as a pitying look.

"Well, in any case, the most I can tell either of you is to sit tight. Hopefully, we'll get this all straightened out soon enough." Clint nodded and Stark made some noise of agreement as well. The doctor left without another word.

Clint laid down and rolled onto his side, trying to make himself comfortable despite knowing that would be impossible. Nothing could ever make this situation comfortable. He was being quarantined after opening a bio-terror letter and everything in his mind was telling him that this was the end of the road. He wouldn't be able to say goodbye to Laura and the kids… Hell, Laura probably didn't even know what was happening. She was probably going about her workday, thinking she'd see him later when he came to drop off the dog. Little did she know, he'd be arriving much later than she expected; in a casket.

He knew he shouldn't be thinking that way, but it's not like he could help it. This was a dire situation and if there was one thing Clint knew about dire situations, it was that they rarely turned out the way that you wanted them to. As tough as it was, Clint managed to push those thoughts aside as he buried his face in the (very cheaply made) pillow. Seeing as he was going to be trapped there with his troubled mind for a while, it seemed that the only way he was going to be able to escape was by getting some sleep.

* * *

After parting ways with Bruce, Lara set out to find Pepper. Seeing as Tony was otherwise occupied, Pepper was the next person she knew to defer to. Finding her proved to be a challenge, though. Apparently, rather than telling her straight out that they didn't know where Pepper was, everyone Lara approached seemed to find sparing her feelings of more importance. They'd lie to her, saying Pepper was at x location when she really wasn't forcing Lara to walk all the way there and get lied to by the next person she asked. If she wasn't fully aware of the situation she was in, she would have gone postal on somebody.

Eventually by some luck, she ran into the right person and got pointed in the right direction. She couldn't have felt more relieved. Although she had been able to ignore the wet-stain that had formed on the back of her pants when she was sitting on that snow-covered bench and talking to Bruce, it was completely impossible to do while she ran around the streets of Midtown like a chicken with it's head cut off in nearly sub-zero temperatures. Walking into the coffee shop and feeling the central heat hit her skin was heavenly.

Looking around, Lara quickly spotted Pepper and her assistant in the back. Both were on their phones and Lara could tell that they were trying to restrain their voices' volume and tone. A blonde woman sat at their table with them and from the way she was dressed (black pants suit with a white button-up shirt) she could tell that she was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Automatically, Lara knew she was going to have to supply ID, so she fished around in her purse for her wallet and pulled out both her driver's license and her SI ID. The agent nodded in approval of both and Lara quietly mouth the words "thank you."

She slid into a seat at the table and waited for either Pepper or her assistant to get off the phone. Pepper paced back and forth; walking the length of two tables before turning around and going back. Lara didn't have to mentally translate any of what Pepper was saying to understand that the conversation wasn't going well. Pepper's assistant, meanwhile, kept a stone-cold face as he fed clipped responses into his phone's speaker. Lara gave the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent a look of pity. She was in for a long, boring day.

After what seemed like forever, Pepper finally hung up the phone. She took a few deep, calming breaths before she turned to Lara.

"I'm sorry about that," she said. "Everyone seems to want to crawl up my ass at once."

"Is there anything I can do to help with that?" Pepper pressed two fingers to her temple.

"Oh God," she said. "I don't know where to start."

"Start with the most annoying, pain-in-the-ass thing you have on your plate right now," Lara advised. "Whatever it is, I'll get it out of your way and done." Pepper closed her eyes for a second to think, but that one second was all that was needed for everything to go to hell.

"Excuse me, Miss Potts!" Lara's face blanched immediately upon hearing the voice and from the way Pepper's whole body stiffened up, she could tell that she wasn't too pleased, either. Turning around, she could see Duane Freeman approaching them and she had to stifle the urge to groan.

If it weren't for the fact that there was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent sitting right there, neither Pepper nor Lara would have had time to school their expressions into something more friendly and appropriate. Freeman had been coming up on them so fast, he was practically running, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent sprung up and got between them, demanding to see ID. Freeman was thrown off-kilter for a second, but recovered enough to fork over both his driver's license and his SI ID. The agent (Agent Morse, apparently from what she told Freeman) took both IDs and studied them with more scrutiny than she had Lara's. After a few moments, she appeared to be satisfied and handed the IDs back but was sure to keep her eyes on him cautiously. Freeman gave her a nod in thanks and continued his way over to Pepper.

"Miss Potts," he said, holding out his hand to her. "I see you've upped your security."

"We've already had one attack today," she said as she politely shook his hand. "We don't want to risk another." Freeman frowned.

"This was an attack?" he asked.

"No," Lara said. "We'd thought we'd treat everyone to an impromptu winter hike through the city." An annoyed look crossed Freeman's face, but it disappeared as he turned to look back at Pepper.

"I hate to dump this on you, now," he said. "But the press is breathing down my neck for a statement. Are we publicly calling this an attack?"

"Not as of yet," Pepper said quickly. "Have you spoken with S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Not yet," Freeman said. "Why? What have they told you?"

"Not to talk to the press." Freeman frowned.

"That's simply not going to do," he said. "The press wants answers now."

"And they can wait," Pepper said. "We don't know what's going on right now and even if we do, we're under strict instructions not to say anything. So, just tell the media that we can't comment on the situation right now.

"You don't understand," Freeman said. "The press is absolutely…"

"And it's your job to deal with the press, is it not?" Freeman's expression faltered.

"Well, yes…"

"Then why don't you do your job and let me do mine?" Pepper asked. "Unless, there's something else you need to tell me?" Freeman shook his head.

"No ma'am," he said, slowly backing off. "That'll be all. I'll just start drafting a statement we can give to the press when we're allowed."

"That's fine," Pepper said. "Just don't say anything to the press now." Freeman nodded.

"Roger that," he said before turning and walking off. Once he was gone, Pepper let out another stressed breath while Lara narrowed her eyes at her.

"He still has a job?" Pepper winced a bit.

"Yes," she said with a little guilt.

"What the hell?" Pepper held up a hand placatingly before Lara could say anymore.

"I seriously was about to fire him when the Code Orange was called," she said. "That stopped me, and I couldn't. I can't get rid of the head of PR in the middle of an emergency. That would be suicide." Lara squeezed her eyes shut hard.

"Alright," she said. "You're right about that."

"Trust me," Pepper said. "I'm just keeping him on until this chaos blows over, then he's getting fired." Lara took a deep breath and nodded, hoping at least for Tony's sake that would be what came to pass.

"Alright," she said. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Pepper raised her eyebrows and began searching through her purse. She pulled out a navy-colored book with the numbers "2012" embossed in gold and several pages that were already worn.

"I actually have a number of appointments I haven't gotten to cancelling yet," she explained. "If you could do that for me, that would be a huge relief." Lara nodded.

"Sure thing." Right away, she got to work, pulling out her phone and turning to the correct page in the planner.

* * *

After being taken to the Hub, Bruce was led down to a lab and he immediately set to work. Betty wasn't there yet, but he knew it was a long way to New York from Virginia, so it was safe to assume she was still on her way. That was fine. It gave him time to think and get some work done.

Although, right now there really wasn't much he could do. In order to examine the letter thoroughly, he would have to take it out of the protective casing it was in and in order to do that safely, he would have to irradiate it. The hold up was that he couldn't irradiate the letter without permission from the CDC, so as a result, he was stuck in a _Catch-22_.

He could, however, examine the letter from inside the box. It was see-though and had magnifying lenses on top, but he really couldn't examine it any closer than that. There were still details he could he could make out, though, like that the letter was addressed to the Avengers and whoever wrote it had very neat, careful handwriting. They wanted to make sure the letter arrived at its intended destination without any mistakes.

Bruce spent a vast amount of time studying the letter and taking notes. That was, until he heard a knock at the door. Turning around, he was met with the sight of Commander Hill and Betty standing in the doorway.

"Dr. Banner," Hill said. "Dr. Samson is here to assist you."

"Uh," Betty said as she raised her hand in an awkward wave. "Hi, Bruce." Bruce gave her a slightly nervous, slightly shy smile.

"Hi, Betty."

* * *

**Thankyou to mfaerie32 for the review on FFN and the two guests that left kudos on AO3! You guys rock!**

**Yeah, unlike the MCU, I'm not pretending that _The Incredible Hulk_ (2008) didn't happen. I feel like at the very least that movie deserves to have the loose ends that were hanging tied up, and Betty is one of them. I just want to give her character a little bit of closure. Hopefully, you don't mind this mini-side plot!**

**I also can't write too much right now because I've also realized I haven't taken my meds yet and I feel a bit off. So, yeah, sorry for not writing much of an author's note. Please, feel free to review/comment! It really means a lot.**

**Remember kids, always take your Prozac on time. You will not believe how terrible you will feel if you don't.**

* * *

**Originally uploaded to FFN on 10/28/19.**


	24. You Need to Calm Down

**Happy Halloween!**

* * *

**Monday, January 30th, 2012**

Hill's eyes flitted back and forth between Betty and Bruce. Clearly, she hadn't made the connection beforehand.

"You're already familiar with each other," she stated.

"Oh, yes," Betty confirmed.

"We went to college together," Bruce said.

"And dated," Betty added.

"And grad school," Bruce added.

"And dated."

"And worked at the same university."

"And dated some more."

"And we worked together on reviving Project: Rebirth."

"And broke up."

"And got back together again."

"And broke up again." Hill eyed them both warily.

"Right," she said, drawing out the word. "If that's all, I would suggest you two get to work, and, you know, **not** get back together in our lab." With that, Hill turned and walked off.

"I wouldn't worry about that!" Betty called down the hall before turning back to Bruce. "So, how have you been?" Betty held out her hand and Bruce took it.

"Well, good, I guess," he said. "Better. What about you?"

"I've been great, actually," Betty said. "I've made some big strides in my research, things are going well with Leonard, I got a new office in the renovation…" Betty seemed to freeze there. It was very easy for Bruce to put together why the university would need to do a renovation.

"Uh, yeah," he said. "Sorry about that. …But congratulations, though, on the wedding."

"Thanks," Betty said. "I didn't know you'd heard."

"Well, it's kind of obvious with the name change," Bruce pointed out. "But I'm happy for you. I hope you and Leonard are happy and had a wonderful day."

"What?" Betty looked confused for a second before it dawned on her. "Oh! No, the wedding hasn't happened yet." She broke off the handshake and held up her left hand to show only an engagement ring on her finger. "We've set the date, though; July Fourteenth."

"Your mother's birthday." A fond smile came over Betty's face as she flipped her hand around to look at the ring herself.

"Yeah," she said.

"You've already changed your name, though?" Betty's smile disappeared as she solemnly nodded.

"Yeah," she said again, this time her voice had more of a cold tone to it. "I went out and did it as soon as Leonard proposed. I kind of want to distance myself from that…"

"I take that to mean your father is not invited to the wedding?" Betty let out a bit of a humorless laugh.

"Are you kidding?" she said. "He's not invited to the rest of my life. I haven't talked to him since…" Again, she froze. Bruce gave her a sympathetic look.

"You don't have to keep walking on eggshells," he said. "I've… Well, I don't think I've entirely come to terms with all of it necessarily, but I'm accepting of the fact that the stuff I've done; that the Other Guy has done… It isn't going to go away or magically get better. I can talk about it now."

"I know, I know," Betty said. "I just don't want to make this hard for you."

"You're not," Bruce assured. "You're not."

"I mean, I didn't even know that you were going to be here until Commander Hill brought me here." A look of astonishment crossed Bruce's face.

"Seriously?" he questioned.

"Mm-hm," Betty said with a nod. "They only told me that I would be working with a former colleague of mine. They didn't specify which one." Bruce frowned. Although he could keep his temper, he couldn't help but feel a little ire towards S.H.I.E.L.D. for that.

"I'm sorry about that." Betty shook her head.

"It's not your fault," she assured. She then took a deep breath and changed the subject. "So, do you mind showing me what we've got so far?"

"Oh, of course." Bruce led the way over to the protective box. Betty was slowed by putting her bag down on the table and pulling her hair up, but quickly caught up.

"Not that much to go on here," Bruce admitted. "Not until we can take the letter out of the box."

"Which could be hours." Betty sighed in aggravation. "Do you mind…?" Bruce shook his head and stepped out of the way.

"Go right ahead." Betty smiled.

"Thanks." She shrugged out of the winter coat she'd been wearing and thrusted it towards Bruce, who hadn't realized her real question had been "do you mind if I use you as a human coatrack?" He gathered the jacket into his arms while Betty excitedly stuck her hands into the glove holes on the side of the box.

Bruce found a chair to hang the jacket off and turned around to find Betty already highly engrossed in studying the envelope. Stepping closer to her, he could see that she had shaken some of the powder out of the envelope and onto her gloved hand. Peering through the magnifying lenses, she was clearly trying to study the powder as best she could. Bruce knew it wasn't easy, though. The lenses couldn't get down to a microscopic level. They could show the powder in a bit more detail, but that was about it. Until they were given permission to remove the letter from the box, that was the best that could be done.

"Yeah," Bruce commented. "You can't really tell much from that." Betty shrugged.

"I don't know about that," she said. "I can tell a few things." Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Like what?" he asked.

"Well," Betty said as she pulled back from the lenses, standing up straight. "The most important thing is that this isn't one kind of pathogen; it's two."

"What?" Betty took a step to the side, gesturing to the lenses.

"Take a look for yourself," she urged.

Bruce took a step forward, stuck his hands into the glove holes, and peered down the lenses. Once again, he saw the same white grains that he had already spent most of his time staring at. Nothing immediately stuck out to him.

"I'm not seeing…"

"The powder's color," Betty said, cutting him off. "It's sort of a tan/off-white." It took a second for Bruce to see it, but he could agree that the description was correct.

"Yeah," he said. "I can see that."

"Most powdered bio-weapons are pure white," Betty explained. "They only become discolored when crossed with something else."

"That's assuming this is a bio-weapon," Bruce said, backing up. "This still could be something else."

"It could be," Betty admitted. "But until we get the results back from the CDC, we should probably act under the assumption that this is the real deal." Bruce's eyes narrowed and his head lowered, but he still nodded.

"Right…" he said. "So, what would someone want to cross a bio-weapon with?"

"My guess," Betty said. "Either something powerful or something with increased virility. Depending on their intent, it makes sense."

"Get them extremely sick or get as many people sick as possible," Bruce concluded. "A lot of things can do one or the other."

"A lot of things can do both," Betty pointed out.

"But that doesn't help us unless we know who we're dealing with." Betty nodded in agreement before turning back to the box.

"Do you know if anyone's looked into that return address yet?" Bruce shook his head.

"It's a dead end," he said. "The letter's addressed from the fourth-grade class of the Greenpark School in Newark, New Jersey. There's no school by that name in Newark or anywhere else in New Jersey."

"Huh," Betty said as she picked up the envelope and flipped it over. "Interesting then that they would seal it with a kiss."

"Yeah," Bruce agreed. "You don't see many elementary school teachers doing that."

"Or kids," Betty added.

"And you don't see them making bio-weapons," Bruce said. "Most sensible teachers save that for high school."

"And you'd need a pretty up-to-date lab to even think about manufacturing this stuff," Betty said. "Plus, a boat load of money."

"Or just access to those two things." Bruce eyed the letter skeptically before a thought dawned on him. "Why Newark?"

"Huh," Betty turned to look at Bruce. Confusion was clear on her face.

"The address is obviously fake," he said. "So why pick Newark? You could make it look like the letter came from anywhere in the world. Why there?" Betty's eyebrows knitted together as she thought the question over. When she came to the answer, her eyes went wide.

"To make it blend in!" she exclaimed. "Whoever did this probably dropped it in a public mailbox and kept Newark as the city in the return address to keep the initial mail carrier from noticing!"

"And there can't be many places in Newark that check off those other two boxes," Bruce said.

"You're right," Betty said excitedly.

"I'll go find an agent," Bruce said. "They at least need to get the word out to the post offices in Newark just in case anyone's been exposed."

"Right," Betty said. "I'll start compiling a list of bio/chem labs in the Newark area."

"Good idea." Bruce started heading for the door.

"Oh!" Bruce stopped and turned to look at Betty. "Can you see if we can get a whiteboard in here? I think we're going to need it." Bruce gave her a smile.

"Sure thing," he said and walked out of the room.

* * *

Natasha picked at her fingernails. She had gotten them manicured before they went to D.C., but after a week and a half of wear and tear, the black polish was starting to chip off. This didn't bother her at all really, but since she was quarantined and had very few options when it came to entertainment, she decided she might as well finish the job. After all, it was better than watching Steve pace the room like a zombie.

He'd been like that since the CDC had taken Stark away. At first, the remaining S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors hand tried to reassure him and get him to sit down, but it was futile. He was too full of anxious energy and probably would be until the CDC confirmed it was just nothing.

Because it was just nothing.

It had to be nothing. Some kid had probably wanted to pull a prank on them or Stark or both and sent a letter full of baby powder in the mail. That was it. They'd all be fine and would go home and laugh about it later. Stark would be fine. Clint would be fine. She wouldn't have to bring any devastating news back to Laura and the kids. They would all be fine. However, she was starting to get the feeling that Steve could tell himself that all the live-long day and that still wouldn't reassure him or calm him down.

She tried seeing the situation from his perspective. Steve had a lot of reasons to be scared, the obvious ones being obvious. The threat of his boyfriend dying a slow and painful death of an unknown disease was the furthest thing from pleasant, but there were other factors to consider.

One of them was Steve's internalized homophobia. Although all things considered, Steve was rather accepting of his own sexuality, growing up in the 1920s and 30s hadn't done him any favors. At that time, bisexuality and homosexuality were considered diseases to be cured, sometimes in the most horrific ways possible. If you were gay or bi, chances were you'd be locked up in an insane asylum, never to see the light of day again. Men didn't date men, women didn't date women, and gay marriage was a joke at best. This was the reality Steve was raised under and still at times seemed to be the only one he could comprehend.

However, things were different now. Seventy years had passed, and the world had changed. The general stance on the topic had shifted to be more accepting (at least in the first world.) This had been explained to Steve multiple times. Natasha and Clint had done so during the flight to Stark Tower during the Battle of New York and some things Stark had said since indicated that he had this conversation with him as well. It was slightly infuriating. How many times did it need to be explained to him that no one cared if he and Stark were in a gay relationship and no one was going to hurt Stark because of that fact – particularly not a medical doctor – for that message to get through?

_It looks like maybe one more._ Natasha sighed as she looked up. Steve was walking by her bed for what seemed like the fortieth time. That was probably forty too many. Knowing what she had to do, Natasha got up off the bed and moved to follow him.

"Steve!" she called after him. He didn't hear her or at least acted like he didn't. "Steve!" He still didn't stop. Natasha moved faster to catch up to him and grabbed his shoulder. He instantly spun around with a surprised look on his face. Okay, maybe he really didn't hear her. "Hey," she said cautiously. "Are you okay?"

"No." Steve turned back and continued pacing. Natasha moved to keep pace with him.

"Okay," she said. "What's wrong?" Steve looked at her like she had two heads. Natasha brought a hand to her face. "Right. Stupid question. I got that." She moved her hand to push back her bangs. "Obviously, you're worried about Stark. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Why?" Steve asked. "What good is talking going to do?" Natasha tried to put a hand on his shoulder again – this time as a means of comfort – but he shrugged it off.

"Hey," she said. "Maybe you should sit down."

"I'm fine," he failed to assure.

"Really?" Natasha asked. "This is fine? You're going to exhaust yourself if you keep pacing like this." Because if he was somehow infected (which Nat highly doubted either of them were as they had both been given some form of a Super Soldier Serum) it would make it harder for his body to fight off the infection.

Slowly, Steve turned around and moved to sit in a nearby swivel chair. Natasha found another one and pulled it up to sit beside him. It was clear that troubled thoughts swirled behind his stony expression, but he didn't speak up. Again, Nat found herself having to take the initiative.

"Does that help?" she asked.

"No," Steve said into his clasped fists. He balanced his elbows on his knees – one of which was bouncing – and he was leaning forward to press his fists against his lips. "It's actually worse." Natasha frowned.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm not doing anything." Steve threw his hands down onto his knees and leaned back in his chair. His knee continued bouncing.

"You weren't doing anything by pacing, either," Natasha pointed out.

"It's more than actually doing nothing," Steve argued.

"No," Natasha said. "All you were doing was exhausting yourself. You need to calm down; relax."

"I can't," Steve said. "I need to do something."

"Like what?" Steve shook his head and shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "Just something to help Tony."

"Steve, you can't," Natasha's voice was firm as she spoke. "There's nothing you can do to help him. Even if we weren't stuck in here, there wouldn't be much you could do."

"I could be with him, at least," he said. "That much, I could do. Here, I'm just absolutely useless."

"I know," Natasha said. "I know that feeling, too. I'm feeling it right now. I want to do something to help **both **Stark and Clint, but I can't. We must wait this out."

"And while we wait this out, they could be dying, and we wouldn't even know." Steve leaned forward and made direct eye contact. "Don't tell me that hadn't occurred to you." Natasha looked down and took a deep breath.

"I can't lie," she said. "It has, but you can't think like that."

"Yes, I can," Steve said. "Especially when I know what the reality is going to be. I'm going to lose Tony just like I've lost everything else." Steve's voice broke a little bit at the end of that sentence. Natasha said nothing, just waited for him to be able to say something again.

As a result, everything was silent. Natasha couldn't even hear the doctors whispering to each other anymore. Likely, they had left but that explanation didn't make the sudden absence of noise any less creepy. Luckily, Steve found what he wanted to say.

"I feel like I can't catch a break," he admitted. "Like all I know anymore is loss, and I feel like it's been following me around for a while, before I even became Captain America."

"How?" Steve looked down.

"It started when I was eighteen," he said. "When I lost my mom. She got sick; consumption." Natasha nodded.

"And you had to watch?" she asked.

"No." Steve shook his head. "I couldn't watch. I wasn't allowed to see her at all." Steve took a deep breath before continuing. "Before the serum, I got sick often. I had a few conditions that weakened my immune system and as a result, the doctors wouldn't let me visit her. The last time I saw her, she was leaving for work. She was coughing a lot, but she told me not to worry about it, she'd be fine."

"She wasn't, though," Natasha concluded.

"She worked in the tuberculosis ward at the hospital," Steve said. "She was a nurse and encountered it all the time. She'd never gotten sick before, but I guess her luck ran out. That day, she fell into a coughing fit so bad, she passed out. Her co-workers got her to a bed and the lead doctor in the ward diagnosed her. I found out eventually and tried to visit her, but no one would let me. She was sick for weeks before she finally passed." Comfortingly, Natasha put a hand on his knee, which paused in it's bouncing.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"The thing that gets me is that I didn't get to say goodbye," Steve said. "All that time and I couldn't say goodbye. She wasn't the only one, either. There were a lot of people that I didn't get to say goodbye to."

"And you're scared now that you're not going to get to say goodbye to Stark?" Natasha asked.

"I don't want to say goodbye to Tony," Steve said. "Not now, not ever. I've known since we first met that I wanted to protect him. That's why I was so scared at first. I didn't want anything to happen to him because of my inclinations."

"Nothing would have, and nothing will," Natasha assured.

"I know," Steve said with a nod. "And I know it won't. Things have changed and people are more accepting now. I know that and I'm not worried about it." Natasha felt a little bit of relief as he said that. At least she wasn't going to have that conversation again.

"Good," she said. "That's good."

"It still doesn't help anything," Steve said. "I still can't help him and I'm still going to lose him."

"You're not," Natasha said.

"I am," Steve insisted. "We've already had so many close calls and we've only been dating for four months. Especially with what happened in D.C., I'm starting to feel like we're running out of our lot of them and it's only a matter of time…"

"Have you talked to Stark about this?" Natasha asked.

"No," Steve admitted. "The past few days we haven't really talked at all. I was just focused on getting him through withdrawal and Tony was obviously suffering."

"Why didn't you ask us for help?" Natasha asked. "You know we would have."

"I know," Steve said. "I also know Tony wouldn't want people seeing him like that. God, it was bad…"

"How bad?" Steve shook his head.

"He wouldn't stop throwing up," he said. "He was in so much pain, he choked a few times, at one point I seriously thought he was going to die… It was… I don't even think I should be talking about it." Natasha nodded in understanding.

"That's okay," she said.

"And after seeing him like that," Steve said. "It makes it hard to think that he could pull through this." Natasha nodded before biting her lip, carefully thinking about what she was going to say next.

"Steve," she said. "Have you talked to anyone?" He lifted his head and raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "I'm talking to you about it right now."

"I mean to a counselor," Natasha said. "Or a psychologist." Steve shook his head.

"No," he said. "God, no. Why would I?"

"It could be helpful," Natasha said. "Talking about this with someone who knows what they're talking about." Steve looked unconvinced. "That private talk I was going to have with Stark today was going to be about him possibly seeing a councilor if that helps."

"Why?" Steve asked. Natasha shrugged.

"He's been through a lot," she explained. "You both have. Talking can help." Steve nodded in agreement, but still looked hesitant. "At least tell me you'll think about it." Steve didn't say anything for a moment, but eventually nodded.

"Okay," he agreed. "I'll think about it." Natasha smiled.

"Do you feel better?" she asked. "At least a little bit?"

"I guess," Steve said. "I mean, I can't stop worrying."

"I can't either," Natasha admitted. "But can you at least stop pacing and relax a little bit?" Steve nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I think I can." Natasha gave him another smile.

"Good."

* * *

A few hours had passed, and Bruce and Betty got quite a few things done. S.H.I.E.L.D. was testing all the public mailboxes in Newark and the two of them had compiled a list of all the labs in the area that they felt were equipped and capable enough to create a biological weapon. However, they still had not managed to identify what the powder was.

As frustrating as it was, neither had given up. Betty was observing the powder through the magnifying lenses while Bruce was researching, trying to find out as much as he could about different biological weapons. It was silent with neither of them speaking. That was until Betty let out a cry of "Oh my God!" Within seconds Bruce was on his feet, rushing over to her.

"What is it?" The look of horror on Betty's face made Bruce's stomach sink.

"I was just shaking the envelope a little bit," Betty explained. "Trying to get a little more of the powder to look at. Instead, this came out." She opened her clenched fist, revealing a thin strip of cardboard with a shiny coating. Bruce's eyes went wide.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked.

"Yup," Betty grimly confirmed. "It's a moisture strip."

* * *

**I hope everyone's having a wonderful holiday because I'm sure not. I have to get blood drawn today and I'm deathly afraid of needles. It's to the point where I need to be put on Valium in order to be docile enough not to attack the nurses. Well, at least I can say I got the scare of my life this Halloween, right?**

**Anyways, thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter! Be sure to review if you did!**

**Remember kids, needles are technically weapons, so they can hurt you!**

* * *

**Originally posted to FFN on 10/31/19.**


	25. We Cannot Be Conquered!

**Happy All Saints Day! I hope all Bostonians enjoy this wonderful day of reckless vigilantism! **

* * *

**Monday, January 30th, 2012**

"Holy crap," was all Bruce could manage to say. His thoughts were reeling as he tried to comprehend the reality of the situation. There was a moisture strip included with the envelope. The only reason someone would have done that would be to keep the powder hydrated and alive, meaning that the powder was alive. Only bad things could come from that.

Bruce had to fight to keep his pulse steady. He couldn't afford to Hulk-out; not here and not now. Still, anger couldn't help but leak through. Someone set out to hurt him; hurt the closest things he had to friends in a long time. It stung and all he wanted to do was find the people responsible _and smash their puny bodies…_

"Bruce?" Betty's voice reminded him of where he was. He gripped the back of a chair, looked down, and started taking deep breaths. Thinking only of the danger he'd be putting Betty and everyone else in this S.H.I.E.L.D. base in by Hulking-out, Bruce managed to get himself into a mostly calm state. When he felt okay enough to function, he turned around and looked back to Betty.

"Sorry about that," he said.

"No, no," she assured. "You're fine. We're good."

"Good," Bruce said. He started to approach the letter's protective housing. "So, there's a moisture strip." Betty nodded in confirmation. "Which means that more likely than not, this thing is alive." A sympathetic look crossed Betty's face.

"I'm sorry," she said earnestly. Bruce shook his head.

"It couldn't be helped." Bruce turned his gaze to the envelope inside the box. "Is there anything else in there?"

"I didn't think so," Betty said. "But it's worth a second look."

Picking up the envelope, Betty turned it vertically so that the ripped side was facing down and began to shake it. A large amount of powder immediately came spilling out. She shook it a few more times and a folded-up piece of stationary came tumbling out. Both Bruce and Betty looked at it in surprise before the shocks wore off and Betty started to unfold it.

* * *

When Clint opened his eyes, his head felt groggy. He had no idea how long he'd been out for. His nose was stuffed up and his throat hurt a bit, but it was nothing compared to the awful dream that he had.

He dreamt that he ripped open a letter filled with white powder and he was rushed to the hospital. He had no way of knowing if he was infected or if he infected anyone else. While all of this was happening, Laura and the kids were completely oblivious to the situation. He could have died from whatever mystery ailment he contracted, and they would never have known it or gotten to say goodbye. Good thing it was all just a dream.

_Oh, wait…_

Clint rolled onto his back and got a face-full of blacklight. He put a hand over his eyes to dampen the glare. Obviously, the black light wasn't terribly bright, but it was just enough to aggravate the headache forming in his congested cranium. On some level, he recognized the fact that he even felt sick at all wasn't a good sign, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel unimpressed.

_Seriously? These terrorists couldn't do better than the common cold._ It was kind of laughable. …Or it would be if he could laugh without pain.

Clint moved his hands to his ears and snapped his fingers. It was a habit for him to check his hearing as soon as he woke up. Even if he could hear things immediately, he always liked to double check to make sure. He snapped next to both ears and confirmed he still had hearing. He snapped left, then right. Both ears were working properly. It came as somewhat of a relief. At least, until he heard an unseen person speak up.

"Can you please stop snapping? It's creepy." It took a moment for Clint to recognize the voice as Tony Stark's – the only person who had been brought into isolation with him – and that it was coming from behind a vinyl sheet that was separating them.

"Oh, Jesus, Stark," Clint said, putting a hand over his heart. "You scared me!"

"Sorry." His voice didn't sound apologetic at all.

"Sure, you are," Clint said with an eyeroll. "How is snapping creepy anyway?"

"Because of Cropsey," Stark said simply.

"Who?" Clint was absolutely baffled.

"Cropsey," Stark said. "You never heard that story."

"No," Clint said honestly. Stark sighed.

"Supposedly," he said. "Cropsey is a monster that lures children to their deaths. It's an urban legend and in the version, I heard growing up, his approach would be accompanied by a loud snapping noise. It scared the crap out of me as a kid. Now, I realize that my nanny just told me that to scare me and so she could just leave the room and start snapping her fingers to get me to behave."

"Alright," Clint said. "I can kind of see how that would be creepy."

"Oh, it gets worse than that," Stark said.

"How so?" Clint asked.

"Cropsey ended up being real." Clint found himself narrowing his eyes skeptically. "Some sick fuck murdered a little girl with Down Syndrome and dumped her body in a shallow grave near a hospital connected to the Cropsey legend. They caught the guy, thankfully, but they think he might have had more victims."

"Okay, that's fucked up." A shiver tan through Clint as he thought about his own daughter. "How the hell was I supposed to know that? I don't have 'the Complete Guide as to What Scared Tony Stark as a Kid.'" He had to assume Stark's response came with a shrug.

"I just assume S.H.I.E.L.D. knows every personal and private detail about my life." Clint sighed.

"They don't," Clint dismissed. "And if you must know, I was snapping my fingers to check my hearing. I wasn't trying to creep you out."

"Why would you need to check your hearing?" The confusion was clear in Stark's voice.

"Because I'm deaf," Clint stated simply.

"Wait, what?"

"I'm deaf," Clint repeated.

"I heard you." Halfway through saying that, Stark clearly realized that could be taken as offensive. "Sorry. That doesn't make sense, though. You can hear me. We're talking right now."

"I have implants," Clint explained. "S.H.I.E.L.D. installed them. They actually allow me to hear better than I did before." Mostly because he had already had twenty-percent hearing loss before he went totally deaf and the implants brought him up to the level of a person without any hearing loss.

"So, S.H.I.E.L.D. fixed your hearing?" Stark asked.

"Yeah."

"How'd they do it?" Clint couldn't help but notice that the tiniest bit of excitement tinged Stark's voice.

"They put me under and did surgery to install them," Clint explained. "That's pretty much it."

"But how did they do it?" Stark asked. "What kind of tech did they use? What process? Did they ever explain it to you?" Clint lifted his head to rub the back of your neck.

"They probably did," Clint admitted. "But I can't really remember now. It was ten years ago."

"Oh." Disappointment was clear in Stark's voice. "Well, if you don't mind, do you think I could have a look at them sometime." Old dread started to stir up in Clint's stomach.

"No," Clint said firmly. "It was invasive enough getting them put in. I don't need someone cutting open my head and poking around in my ears just for curiosity's sake."

"Alright. Sorry." Stark clearly got that he needed to back off and said nothing else after that. Clint rolled onto his side, thinking that another hour or two of sleep wouldn't hurt him.

However – much to his surprise – Clint found himself unable to fall asleep. He closed his eyes, but he wouldn't drift off. Granted, he **had** just slept for several hours, but given how drowsy he was, he thought it'd be easier to fall asleep than this.

As he laid awake, he couldn't help but wonder if he should hit the nurses' call button on the remote attached to the bed. After all, he was feeling sick and that was a red flag in this situation. However, he couldn't help but think of what would happen if he did. The most likely possibility would be that his symptoms ended up being nothing and he'd waste the nurses time. However, there was also the possibility that they cold end up being something but neither the nurses nor the doctors would be able to do anything to help. To be honest, the latter possibility weighed on him the most. He didn't want confirmation that this was real. Call him an idiot, but he wanted to cling onto the hope that everything was going to be fine for as long as possible.

In a way, that felt sort of hypocritical. Natasha tried to tell him that so many times, but he wouldn't listen to her, choosing to dread the reality instead. Look how well that worked out for him! In all, he just hoped his cynical outlook wasn't the last memory he'd leave her with.

He hoped the last memory he'd leave Laura with wouldn't be of a bad-quality video call.

He hoped the last memory he'd leave his kids with wouldn't be of a kiss on the head each and a promise to come back safe and sound this time. Breaking that promise would sting worse than any of the other promises he'd made and broken in his lifetime.

Those thoughts, obviously, depressed him. He tried to push them away, but every time he did, his thoughts would go to his symptoms and how sick he felt. When he pushed those thoughts away, his mind would go straight back to his loved ones and what would happen to them after his likely impending demise. It was a vicious cycle and it did nothing to help him relax. He tossed and turned for a bit, but ultimately, he had to accept that he wasn't going to fall asleep. Rolling back onto his back, Clint opened his eyes again.

Looking up at the blacklights, Clint took a deep breath and let out a sigh. Other than sleeping, there wasn't much to do. If he wasn't painfully aware of what true torture was, he'd be calling this torture. He got that they needed to have outlets available for the machines, but they couldn't at least give them a book to read or a deck of cards? This was only slightly more bearable than solitary confinement, mostly because he knew he wasn't alone.

Clint's gaze went to the vinyl divider that separated him and Stark. He couldn't see through it, but he knew Stark was on the other side. That served to make things a little less creepy. At least there would be a witness if the doctors decided that he was beyond the point of saving and they might as well take his organs while they were fresh. (_Because, yeah, organ harvesting just casually happens at one of the most reputable hospitals in the world!_) However, Clint couldn't help but wonder how Stark was handling all of this. Probably not well given the fact that this was the second or third time he'd been poisoned recently. He'd even pointed it out himself. Clint figured he might as well check up on him.

"Hey, Stark?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"How are you doing?" Stark hesitated a moment.

"If you're asking if I got sick again, I haven't," he said. "So far, I'm good." Clint nodded.

"Good," he said. "That's good."

"You're not good, though," Clint frowned.

"You can tell?" he asked.

"Your nose is stuffed up so much, it sounds like Tweety Bird," Stark said. "It's a pretty obvious tell."

"Thanks," Clint said, but it came out more like "tanks."

"Shouldn't you let the nurses know?" Stark asked.

"Probably," Clint said.

"So why don't you?" He shrugged.

"If I'm dying, I'm not going to rush it," he said. "I just don't want to know." Laura and the kids didn't know. It was only fair. Stark made a noise of agreement.

"I sort of get that," he said. "When I did, I don't want to know it's coming. It'd be much easier that way."

"Huh," Clint said. "That's surprising.

"How so?" Stark asked. Clint shrugged.

"I mean," he said. "I kind of took you as the type who would want to know something like that. You know, to either do something about it or revel in it." Clint felt a little guilty as he finished that statement, and rightly so.

"What's that supposed to mean?" There was a sharp edge to Stark's voice. Clint swallowed hard.

"Well, you **are** kind of a showman," he said. "I just figured if you knew you were going to die, you'd want to make a big show of it."

"Yeah," Stark said. "Because dying is fun." Clint frowned.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said.

"Sure, you didn't." His sarcastic tone matched the one Clint used earlier.

"I meant a celebrity with your reputation…" Clint didn't get to finish that sentence.

"Reputation doesn't mean shit," Stark said. "If I was dying, no one know it."

"No one?" Clint questioned. "You mean you wouldn't tell the press."

"I mean I wouldn't tell anyone," Stark said. "Period."

"You wouldn't tell your friends or family?" Stark hesitated a moment.

"Well, I'd have to tell Pepper if she asked me point-blank," he said. "But other than that, I wouldn't tell anyone."

"Even Cap?"

"Even him."

"Holy shit." Clint couldn't imagine not telling Laura something like that – barring circumstances out of his control. It sounded like absolute lunacy. "That's terrible."

"No, it's not," Stark said. "Trust me, I'm sparing him. I'm sparing everyone."

"Sparing everyone?" Clint questioned. "Sparing them from what?"

"Grief," Stark said. "They don't need to waste it on me."

"They're going to grieve anyway," Clint pointed out.

"Yeah," Stark said. "But it'll be better for them. They'll get over it faster."

"No," Clint said. "No, they won't. They'll be devastated and hurt that you didn't tell them something so serious while you were still alive."

"That's what Pepper said," Stark noted. "It's also why I had to promise that if I knew I was dying again, I would tell her."

"Again?" Clint questioned. "This has happened before?"

"Yup," Tony said, popping the "p." "And if you want to know more about it, you can just ask your girlfriend. After all, she's the one who injected me with mystery drugs and kicked my ass into saving myself."

"My girlfriend?" Clint broke out into a cold sweat. (At least, he would have if he wasn't already sweating. Instead the rate of which he was perspiring just increased.) He wondered for a moment how Stark could have possibly known about Laura before he realized that he couldn't have. His brain made the connections and realized who he was talking about. "Do you mean Natasha?"

"Yeah," Stark said. "Who else would I be?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Clint said firmly.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Why not?" Clint knew he had to tread carefully here. He couldn't just say "because I'm married and the only person, I really want to sleep with is my wife." Although that was the absolute truth, that would end up compromising himself and his family, and while he may trust the Avengers with his own life, outside of Natasha he wasn't sure if he could trust them with Laura's, or with Cooper's and Lila's. Plus, they were in a hospital being monitored by CCTV. It wasn't exactly a secure location. He needed to be careful about exactly what he said and how he said it. He settled on vagueness as his best option.

"I'm seeing someone already," he said. "And even if I wasn't, I wouldn't be interested in her."

"Oh," was all Stark said in response. Something in his voice told Clint that he probably realized he probably shouldn't have asked that question.

"Even so," Clint said. "I could never imagine keeping something like that from her especially not my significant other." Astoundingly, Stark let out a little chuckle.

"This is your first time dying, isn't it?" Clint narrowed his eyes.

"No," he said.

"Let me correct that," Stark said. "This is the first time you've been dying and had time to mull it over." Clint opened his mouth to argue, but he realized Stark might be right. Every other time he'd been dying or close to death, it either happened so quick he didn't even have time to process it or he didn't possess the awareness to even really think about it. "That's what I thought," Stark said after Clint went a few moments without responding. "Well, I've been dying or in a situation where I could die more times than I can even count at this point, and let me tell you, watching other people watch you die is worse than dying itself."

"How?" It was Clint's turn to regret asking a question. Stark hesitated a moment before he started forcing the words out of himself.

"When I lied about dying to Pepper," he said. "I honestly did it because I could only imagine what that would do to her. At the time, I had feelings for her and thought I was sparing her; giving her some form of mercy. Instead, I just ruined whatever we had between us and almost destroyed our friendship. I thought, 'okay, I'll never do something that shitty to someone again,' then last week happened…"

The automatic thought that popped into Clint's head was 'you did that to yourself,' but he quickly stamped it out. If something like that happened to him, he'd get tired of people telling him that it was his fault very quickly. So, he forced himself to stay quiet.

"You saw how I was on the plane, right?" Clint answered in the affirmative. "Well, it got worse than that; so much worse. I actually thought I was going to die, and worse than that, Steve did, too."

"Shit," Clint muttered to himself. "But that's not reason enough to lie to your loved ones. Just because he was worried about you while you were going through withdrawals…"

"It's more than that," Stark said. "He's already lost so many people. I didn't want to put him through something like that. I shouldn't have."

"Let's put it like this," Clint said. "How would you feel if Cap was dying and he kept it from you?" Stark hesitated in answering.

"I'd be devastated, obviously," he said. "But I wouldn't hold it against him."

"You sure about that?" Clint asked. Stark's silence was all the answer he needed.

"Regardless," Stark said. "The point is probably mute anyway. If we're dying, Steve and Romanoff will probably know before we do. The way these people handle information, we'll be the last to know." Clint shrugged.

"Eh," he said. "True enough, but I can imagine Natasha will have a few choice words for them."

"Yeah," Stark said. "Then she and Steve will track down the bastards who did this to us and give them hell."

"They won't have to look far," Clint said. "I mean, I'm right here."

"You're not actually blaming yourself for this, are you?" Stark asked.

"I opened the…" A sudden coughing fit cut Clint off before he could finish what he was saying. He started over once he caught his breath. "I opened the letter."

"So?" Stark said. "Any one of us could have done that."

"Well, I did it after you told me not to," Clint pointed out.

"Again, so?" Stark said. "Getting poisoned by a terrorist kind of mitigates mail fraud."

"And I noticed the letter looked suspicious," Clint added.

"And are you the one who filled it with a deadly powder and mailed it to us?" Stark asked.

"No," Clint said. "I mean, I know I played that murder prank before, but I wouldn't go that far."

"Then why in the hell do you think this is your fault?" Stark asked.

"Because everything is my fault," Clint said. "I'm the reason that so many S.H.I.E.L.D. agents died. I'm the one who almost brought down the hell carrier. I helped Loki escape with the Tesseract. I'm the reason that…" Clint stopped himself before he could finish that sentence.

_I'm the reason that Coulson is dead._

That statement broke his heart and burned his soul, but it was a reality that Clint faced every day. If he hadn't helped Loki escape from that S.H.I.E.L.D. base in New Mexico – if he had resisted Loki and hadn't let him take over his mind – then Coulson would probably still be alive today. It didn't matter that he wasn't the one to pull the trigger. He was the one that started the chain of events that led to Coulson's death. That was enough for Clint to call himself responsible.

Stark fell silent. Clint couldn't blame him for that, though. Everything he did was quite repugnant, especially when you added opening the letter to that list. Eventually, Stark did speak up, and what he said surprised Clint.

"I'd like to argue with you," he said. "But I can't say that's something I don't do either."

"Seriously?" Clint questioned.

"Ever since…" Stark's voice audibly froze. "Ever since… 'The Incident,' my mind's been going non-stop. I keep thinking about what went wrong – what I did wrong – and I keep trying to fix it, and yeah, blaming myself kind of goes along with all of that."

"Then why'd you try to tell me it wasn't my fault?" Clint asked.

"Because that's what you're supposed to say when someone blames themselves?" Stark guessed. "Would you rather I say, 'fuck you, asshole?'"

"Actually, yeah," Clint said.

"Well, fuck you, asshole." Surprisingly, Clint found himself laughing. It didn't last long because he started coughing again, but for a moment he felt something akin to happiness.

It took a couple of moments for Clint to catch his breath. Luckily, Stark didn't try to ask him if he was okay. Clint appreciated that. At least Stark seemed to understand that a person couldn't answer pointless questions while they were choking to death. Once he could finally breathe, Clint tried to resurrect the conversation.

"How long has it been?" he asked. "Do you know?"

"Eh…" Stark said as he thought. "Somewhere between six and ten hours? I can't tell. I've been staring at the ceiling and picking at my nails the whole time.

"Seriously?" Clint asked.

"Well, I also sat here for a while wondering if I could modify that defibrillator to put out enough volts to kill me," Stark said.

"Could you?" Clint asked.

"Probably," Stark said. "But I'm afraid if I kill myself now, my ghost would be doomed to haunt this room without entertainment forevermore."

"What a terrible fate," Clint said. "Trapped here, forced to be bored, only interacting with other idiots who poisoned themselves."

"Yeah," Stark said. "That's a fate worse than death."

"Yeah," Clint agreed. "It'd be hell if we were stuck here alone."

"Oh, God, yes," Stark said. "That'd be solitary confinement."

"Cruel and unusual punishment," Clint added.

"What'd be even worse would be if the others were here, too," Stark said. "Steve, Romanoff, Bruce… Especially Bruce. If he were trapped here with us, we wouldn't have a chance."

"No kidding," Clint said.

"Yeah," Stark said. "Besides, I'd hate to see how the Other Guy would react to being locked in a sterile, five-by-nine box."

"Probably no worse than Natasha," Clint said.

"Really?" Stark asked. Clint shrugged.

"I wouldn't say she's claustrophobic," he said. "But being locked in a small space with limited exits does make her antsy. If she were here, she probably would have broken down the door twice and exposed a few of the nurses by now."

"Shit," Stark remarked. "I know Steve's wary around doctors, but I don't think even he would go that far."

"I don't think Nat would even care at the time," Clint said. "Doctors weren't the friendliest of faces for her growing up either. She's a lot better with them now than she used to be, but if she were that scared, she'd probably regress." Slowly, Clint's frown flipped upwards into a smile. "It actually makes me feel sorry for the bastards who did this. When she finds them, she's going to go ape shit on them, no holds-barred."

"Oh definitely," Stark agreed. "I doubt even Mr. Good-Boy American Hero would be able to hold back against those sick fucks." Clint's smile got wider.

"I can already see the looks on their faces," he said. "They're going to have that 'oh shit' look. You know the one…"

"The one where they see you and they just know," Stark said.

"Exactly!" Clint exclaimed while trying to suppress a cough. "Exactly…" Clint couldn't keep it suppressed any longer and broke out into a horrific fit of coughing. Again, Stark was courteous and didn't try to talk to him while he struggled to breathe, which Clint was thankful for. After a moment, he was able to pull back and catch his breath a bit but felt extremely light-headed. As he used the back of his arm to wipe off his mouth, he figured out why. A streak of brilliant scarlet was left behind; fresh blood. Clint's eyes went wide as the coughing started up again and he was forced to battle for the right to continue to breathe.

* * *

Dear Sir/Madam,

Enclosed within this letter is a powder consisting of Ebola crossed with the H5N1 virus. The Ebola has been genetically modified to be anti-biotic resistant while the H5N1 has been modified to be highly contagious amongst humans. You may seek treatment now, but be advised, there is no cure.

This is retribution against the Avengers for their actions on September 4th, 2011 and all the lives lost that day. We will avenge them.

Sincerely, 

Mauritia Sharpton, COO of New Horizons Labs, a Division of Roxxon LLC and mother of Tessa Sharpton, killed September 4th, 2011 by the Avengers.

We cannot be conquered!

Sealing the letter was the image of an upside-down triangle being trisected by a ring.

* * *

**Thank you to IRllyHrtStny_75 for leaving kudos on AO3! It really means a lot!**

**Anyone who doesn't understand what I'm talking about obviously isn't familiar with _the Boondock Saints_. To which, I say thank God. (I recognize that it is not objectively a good movie, but I still can't help but love it.)**

**Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I hope I didn't scare you too much. Just so you know, I'm dangerously close to catching up with myself. I'm currently writing Chapter Twenty-Seven, but thankfully my next post dates are November Fifth and November Eleventh, so hopefully, that will be enough time to make some headway. Be aware, though, that updates could get more sporadic. **

**Remember kids, if God tells you to kill people, you're most certainly not crazy and should go ahead and carry out vigilante justice in one of the most gentrified neighborhoods in one of the most gentrified cities in the world with the exception of Dorchester. That part of Boston is still largely segregated, sadly.**

* * *

**Originally uploaded to FFN on 11/1/19.**


	26. Sealed With a Kiss

**Happy Guy Fawkes Day!**

* * *

**Monday, January 30th, 2012**

Tony's eyebrows raised in alarm when he heard Barton's hacking renew, this time much more violent. He wanted to ask if he alright, but he held back. He didn't want to force answers out of a choking person. However, the sudden blaring of alarms made his concern worsen.

On the other side of the vinyl sheet, Tony could hear a door opening and could only guess it was the doctors and nurses that were monitoring them rushing in. He climbed out of bed and laid flat on the cold laminate floor to try to peer under the sheet. No dice. A black rubber strip covered the gap between the floor and the sheet, leaving Tony unable to see anything. Annoyed, he slammed his palm against the ground and stood up. Brushing the dust off his hospital gown, he heard the other door open behind him.

"Mr. Stark, get back into bed, now!" Tony turned to see Dr. Smith entering the room, wearing a much heavier protective suit than before. This only served to worry Tony further.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I'll tell you in a minute," Dr. Smith said. "Just get back into bed."

"No," Tony said. "First, tell me what's going on."

"No," Smith said firmly. "First, you're going to get your ass back into that bed and let me do what I need to do. Then, I'll tell you what I know." Tony swallowed hard. The fiery look in her eyes made him not want to argue, so he did as she said and got back into bed.

Right away, Smith was taking saliva and blood samples. Tony didn't resist or ask questions; just let her do her job. She grilled him on how he was feeling, and Tony answered honestly without any hesitation. He felt a little nauseous but was otherwise fine. He couldn't help but notice the look of relief that slowly washed over Smith's face as he told her that. It easily unnerved him.

"What's going on?" he finally asked when it looked like she was done. Smith audibly took a deep breath.

"We think we might know what the powder was," she said. Under different circumstances, Tony would have taken that as good news, but the somber tone of Smith's voice told him otherwise. Glancing down for a second, Tony noted that the alarms had stopped blaring, but the doctors on the other side of the vinyl sheet were still clearly speaking in rushed tones.

"Barton has it, doesn't he?" Smith slowly nodded.

"We don't have it officially confirmed yet," she said. "But he is showing symptoms."

Tony nodded in understanding but internally he was consumed by concern and worry. Although he might not know Barton as well as the others, with what he'd heard in just the past conversation he knew he was at least a good guy. He didn't deserve the suffering that was coming to him and he didn't deserve to die.

_God damn it, Barton,_ he thought. _Please don't die._

* * *

"Your absolutely certain about this?" Hill lifted her gaze from the letter's protective housing and turned it to Bruce and Betty. The latter of the two nodded.

"Yes, ma'am," she said. "We have no reason to believe the letter's claims are false. Likely, the powder is a cross of genetically modified Ebola and the H5N1 virus."

"If you take into consideration that Barton seems to be showing symptoms…" Bruce trailed off there, his voice grim. He didn't want to picture Barton sick, or any of the other Avengers, really. The idea of such a horrific murder attempt made him…

It made him want to skip through a field of flowers with a whole pack of puppies nipping at his heels. That was a good way to keep calm. The Hulk liked puppies. Hill was clearly struggling to keep her cool, though.

"Shit," she cursed, bringing a hand to her forehead. "And it's been modified to be anti-biotic resistant?"

"According to the letter, yes," Betty said.

"Is there any way to confirm that?" Hill asked.

"Not without taking it out of the box," Bruce said. "And the CDC hasn't given us permission to irradiate the letter yet."

"Do it." Bruce and Betty were left blinking for a moment.

"Uh, ma'am?" Bruce questioned.

"You heard me. Do it." The scientists exchanged stunned looks with each other.

"Ma'am, we really need to wait for the CDC…" Hill didn't hesitate in cutting Betty off.

"Fuck the CDC," she said. "You kill those bugs and you kill them now. We need answers before Barton is dead."

With that, she turned and stormed out of the room. Bruce couldn't blame her for her reaction. He wanted to do the same. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't turn green if he did so, stopped him. Slowly, he turned to look at Betty.

"So, I guess we should irradiate it," she said.

"Yeah," Bruce slowly agreed. A concerned expression crossed Betty's face.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I, uh," Bruce stammered as he scratched the back of his head. "I think I need a minute."

Without another word, Bruce walked out of the room, making sure to turn in the opposite direction that Hill did. This ended up leading him further down the labyrinth of hallways. Initially having just intended to take a walk to clear his head, Bruce eventually found himself lost.

Bruce knew that the trick to getting out of a maze was to follow the right wall, but this just leads him in a circle. He tried to do the same with the left, but again just went in a giant circle. The only hope he had was the fact that there still appeared to be offices sprinkled about every so often. Bruce figured that the only way he was going to get back to the right place was by asking someone for directions.

He knocked on the first door he came across. There was no reply and the door was apparently unlocked. Turning the knob, Bruce was met with the sight of a blackened, unused room. Despite that, he figured there had to be a map of the building or a fire evacuation plan in the room somewhere. He felt across the wall for a light switch but found none. Undeterred, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

However, he didn't pull up the flashlight app. Instead, he found himself opening his contacts and tapping on one of the few names contained within. The phone only rang twice before there was an answer.

"Stark Industries," the lightly accented voice said. "You've reached Lara Conroy. How can I help you?"

"Uh, Lara?" Bruce said cautiously.

"Bruce!" he heard her exclaim. "What's going on?"

"Nothing pressingly urgent," he assured, not wanting or needing to alarm her. "At least, not right now." He heard her give a sigh of relief.

"That's good," she said. "That means no one is dying, right?" Bruce hesitated. "Bruce…"

"Barton's sick," he said. "That we know for sure." He heard her let out what he was sure was a curse in French.

"Is anyone else sick?" she asked. "Specifically, Tony?"

"Tony's fine," Bruce assured. "So are Steve and Romanoff. Barton is the only one showing symptoms."

"Okay," she said. "That's good. I mean, not **good** but…"

"Better than the alternative?" Bruce suggested.

"Yeah," Lara agreed. "I mean, I hate saying it, but Tony better not get sick. That would only add more onto my plate."

"I get it," Bruce said. "I'm kind of hoping the same thing right now. It's horrifically selfish but at the same time…"

"You can't help but want it to go your way?" Lara offered.

"Exactly," Bruce said.

"Which is why we are terrible people," Lara said.

"Ah," Bruce said. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Well, I'd say it makes me a terrible person at least." Bruce couldn't help but frown at that. "Anyway, do you know what Barton is sick with? Is it curable?"

"The CDC hasn't officially confirmed it yet," Bruce said. "But we have an idea and it's not looking good."

"I can imagine," Lara said. "But can you do something for him.

"Probably not," Bruce admitted, his voice full of guilt.

"I'm sorry." Bruce shook his head.

"It's not like it could be helped," he said. "If there was something that could be done, I'd do it."

"I don't doubt it," Lara said. "I would, too."

"Maybe you're not so terrible after all," Bruce remarked.

"Maybe," Lara said without much confidence. "But other than these unfortunate circumstances, things are going well?" Bruce furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"With Betty." Bruce almost wanted to cuff himself over the back of the head.

"Oh, Betty," he said. "Right. Things are going good."

"They are?" Lara questioned.

"Uh, yeah," Bruce said. "I mean, not overly good. We talked at the start, but we haven't really… We've mostly just worked." To his surprise, he could hear Lara laughing on the other end of the line. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing," she assured. "Just… I don't know, the stammering is just kind of cute. You must've really loved her, or still love her." Bruce blinked. He knew that it wasn't Betty that was making him so tongue-tied.

"Yeah," he said. "I did. Now she's moved on and so have I."

"You sure?" Lara asked. "There's not going to be any cuckolding going on?"

"No," Bruce said. "Of course not. Although technically Betty isn't married yet, I would never…"

"What do you mean?" Lara asked, cutting him off.

"I mean," Bruce said. "She's changed her name, but they haven't had the wedding yet."

"Oh," Lara said, sounding slightly stunned.

"Yeah," Bruce said. "It's not until July. They set the wedding date for her mom's birthday."

"That's nice," Lara remarked. "But how do you feel about that? Does it change anything?"

"Excuse me?" Bruce said.

"You know," Lara said, her voice growing tinier with every word. "Like with Betty?"

"No," Bruce said. "Why would it?"

"Just wondering," Lara said quickly. "It's not my business anyway."

"Right," Bruce said.

"I should probably go back to doing things that are my business," Lara said. "Like running Tony's business."

"You're still working?" Bruce asked.

"Yes," Lara said. "Unfortunately, my job doesn't go on hold just because my boss is dying. Currently, I'm getting the evil eye from Pepper's assistant because I took a non-work-related call."

"Sorry," Bruce said. "I'll let you go so you can get back to work."

"Don't be," Lara said. "It started out as work-related anyway."

"Right," Bruce said. "I'll let you go."

"Alright," Lara said. "Keep me updated. Call if anything changes."

"Will do," Bruce assured.

"Okay," Lara said. "Bye."

"Bye." After that, the line went dead. Bruce pulled the phone away from his ear.

Although the conversation was somewhat tense, Bruce had to admit, he did feel a little bit more at ease. He supposed that it was probably because it had taken his mind off the situation, if only for a few moments. Before he could really think about it, though, he heard a knock on the doorframe behind him.

"Bruce?" He turned around to see Betty standing there.

"Oh, Betty," he said. "I didn't hear you coming."

"I've been standing here for a couple of minutes," she said. "Who were you talking to?"

"My friend, Lara." Betty raised an eyebrow.

"Your friend?" she questioned.

"Yeah," Bruce said. "Well, she's Tony's assistant – that's how I know her – but we're friends. I'd say we're friends." A knowing smile crossed Betty's face.

"Just a friend?" Bruce felt a feeling he could only describe as someone dropping a stone in his stomach.

"Yeah," he said. "I mean, uh… Yeah." Betty laughed. Bruce looked up at her in surprise as she brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"Come on," she said, gesturing back down the hall. "You can tell me about her while we work on irradiating that letter."

Not knowing how to feel other than surprised, Bruce followed her out the door and down the hallway. At least now he had a clearer head and could do his job.

* * *

Clint wanted to laugh. He really did. This had to be some sick joke; a horrible one that the universe had decided to play on him for absolutely no reason. Sure, he's done some terrible things in his life – especially before he joined S.H.I.E.L.D. – but he couldn't imagine anything he ever did evening out to this.

He wasn't sure how long he struggled to breathe, but he was sure that it was too long. It felt like forever before the nurses ran into the room and started intubating him. When they finally did it, it came as such a huge relief. For a second, he could have sworn he saw the light at the end of the tunnel, but it faded away as soon as sweet, sweet oxygen flooded his lungs. He was aware of the nurses reading out stats and someone turning off the alarms, but he didn't feel his senses fully return to him until Dr. Wayne was already well into explaining what was going on.

Apparently, Clint's lungs had started filling with blood and he was chocking on it. They didn't know where the blood was coming from, but regardless, they had to intubate him. It hurt, but it wasn't as bad as **dying**. The doctor apologized for it, though, mostly because the process had rendered Clint unable to speak. Clint signaled that he was fine with it, and then started signing, hoping that someone would recognize what he was doing and help him out.

By some miracle, one of the nurses was familiar with ASL and quickly offered to translate for him. This clearly came to the relief of Dr. Wayne, who immediately started asking medical questions. Most of them were yes or no – most likely for simplicity's sake – but it was clear the doctor knew how to ask the right questions and glean as much as possible from the limited answers. Clint could tell, though, that what he was saying was concerning the doctor.

He was lying on his back, so he was facing the ceiling. He would change positions so he could see the doctor better, but the intubation made that impossible. As a result, he could only use the doctor's voice to try to discern what his reactions were, and Clint could hear changes in his tone with each answer. Wayne's voice grew more serious and concerned, which terrified Clint.

By the end of it, though, he still didn't know what was wrong with him. Dr. Wayne and the nurses with no explanation or even the slightest indication as to what was ailing him. In a way, that was distressing, but in the end, it was what he had wanted all along. As he had thought to himself earlier, Laura and the kids didn't know, so he wasn't going to know either. Although now he might be finding it at lease somewhat frustrating, it was still fair. The rest of the situation, however, was becoming less so.

He was intubated; pinned down with nowhere to run. A machine was breathing for him. He was being forced to stare up at blacklights that bothered his eyes and were probably doing nothing to kill all the germs and microbes in the air. Finally, thanks to the tubes, he couldn't speak. He could still communicate with ASL, but that wasn't an entirely effective solution. The vinyl sheet that separated him from Stark wasn't see-through, which meant he couldn't communicate with him. Clint was officially in solitary confinement.

* * *

Once the letter was irradiated, both Bruce and Betty set about testing for everything they could think of. Obviously, they tested the powder for H5N1 and Ebola along with every other known disease. While they waited for their own results to come back or the CDC to get back to them with their results, they began to test the components of the letter.

Betty was particularly interested in the lipstick stain that sealed the back of the letter. Bruce had to agree it was strange but didn't see it as such a pressing piece of evidence. In his opinion, they should be focusing on determining how and if the viruses could have survived postal irradiation.

Although, yes, Barton was possibly showing symptoms of both Ebola and H5N1, they couldn't be certain it was even those diseases he was suffering from, never mind if it came from the powder or not. If the powder ended up being inert, then it couldn't infect anyone. If that were the case, it could be a good sign. It could mean that Barton had something more common, less deadly, and more treatable; curable even.

…Or it could mean he had something far more serious.

Ever the optimist, Bruce found himself hoping that it was active and what was infecting Barton. At least then they would have some idea of what they were dealing with and how to try to treat him. In this game, a shot in the dark could easily kill Barton.

Now that they could take the letter out of its protective case and examine it, Bruce and Betty could easily say that they were making some progress. Scrutinizing it with gloved hands, they found the envelope to be gilded with some sort of lining. Pulling a piece off, Betty judged it to be aluminum foil just off appearances. To be sure, though, she ran it through the mass spectrometer to test its make-up and sure enough, it came back as aluminum foil, which could be a major development.

The most common type of radiation used by postal services to prevent biohazardous attacks was ionizing radiation, which detaches electrons from atoms and molecules, thereby rendering any viruses and/or bacteria that could be inside dead. Ionizing radiation could be broken down into four different types; alpha radiation, beta radiation, gamma radiation, and neutron radiation. Neutron radiation could only be neutralized by using light elements such as hydrogen. Gamma radiation couldn't penetrate anything denser than lead. Beta radiation couldn't penetrate anything denser than aluminum and alpha radiation couldn't penetrate anything denser than paper.

If it wasn't already clear, most postal services use beta radiation to irradiate the mail. It was strong enough to get through paper but wasn't too strong and didn't hold as large of a risk of harming someone as gamma radiation did. (To note, the concern of wide-spread cases of Hodgkin's Lymphoma was more of a concern with gamma radiation than a wide-spread Hulk outbreak. Remember, it wasn't gamma exposure alone that created the Hulk.) The aluminum lining could provide a case for the powder being active. When the moisture strip was added to the mix, it didn't create a pretty picture.

After running the foil through the mass spectrometer, Betty took a swab off the lipstick stain and ran it through. While she was doing that, Bruce turned his attention to the computer and began to research New Horizons Labs. As the letter claimed, it was, in fact, a subsidiary of the Roxxon Corporation and unsurprisingly, they were in Newark, New Jersey. However, there were a few surprising things that Bruce did discover. Namely, that the lab in question didn't deal with infectious diseases. New Horizons Labs largely dealt with over-the-counter pharmaceutical products and cosmetics.

That raised a huge question; how did they get a hold of such dangerous and deadly diseases? It could mean that the powder was fake, but that wouldn't explain all the effort they took to get around postal irradiation. It did cause the lipstick stain to make a little more sense, though, if they were using it as some sort of calling card.

Other than that, a lot didn't add up. Why would New Horizons or even Roxxon want the Avengers dead? The letter implied that this was the result of a rouge employee's personal vendetta, but there would need to be more than one person involved in something like this. Even with all their individual expertise, neither Bruce nor Betty would have been able to produce a genetically modified strain of Ebola or H5N1 by themselves. Sharing what he found in his research with her, Betty seemed to concur.

"I can't see how anyone could do it on their own," she said. "I mean, that lab surely has some top-notch equipment, but could they really manufacture something of that level?"

"Suppose they could," Bruce said. "Suppose they already have all the equipment they needed to make this happen. What would stand in their way of getting access to strains of Ebola and H5N1?"

"The CDC," Betty said. "I don't work with these kinds of diseases often, but I've worked with them enough to that that it's not easy to get access to them."

"What do they require?" Bruce asked. "Background checks? Health exams?"

"Yes, and yes," Betty said. "Not just for the people working with the virus, but even those who are at risk of indirectly being exposed, like maintenance staff or those working in other offices of the same building."

"And these kinds of diseases wouldn't be released without their knowledge or say," Bruce concluded.

"Right," Betty said. "I can call…" She was cut off by the ringing of her cellphone. "Speak of the devil," she muttered as she glanced at the screen. Pulling the device to her ear, she pleasantly greeted whoever was on the other end of the line.

As Betty took a few steps across the room, a text box had popped up on the screen of the computer she had been using. Checking it out, Bruce found it was a notification that the mass spectrometer had finished analyzing the lipstick and the options to either display the result on screen or print it out were listed below it. Bruce picked the former and a bar graph appeared onscreen. There were small amounts of the ingredients that normally made up lipstick (fish scales, dyes, etc.) but it was overwhelmingly made up of one substance. Underneath the tallest bar of all, the statistic was written: Lead 92.3%.

"Holy crap," Bruce said to himself. His eyes went over to the envelope, which was resting on the table next to him. Even from the distance, he was at, he could see that the lipstick stain covered a significant area of the letter's surface. Although the letter was gilded with aluminum foil, the lead lipstick stain would add another layer of protection, ensuring that at least some of the powder wouldn't be affected by the beta rays; that it would remain active.

Bruce saw Betty hang up her phone and rushed over to her.

"Betty," he said. "The results on the lipstick stain came back! You'll never believe this!"

"The powder was active when the letter was opened." Bruce's expression fell.

"Yeah," he said. "How did you know?"

"The blood test results came back," Betty said. "Three came back negative, one tested positive for Ebola and H5N1." Bruce swallowed hard.

"Which ones?" Betty looked sympathetic.

"Rogers, Romanoff, and Stark came back clean," she said. "It's Barton."

Luckily, Bruce didn't Hulk-out, but he was promptly sick to his stomach.

* * *

**Thank you to the guest who left kudos on AO3 and mfaerie32 on FFN for the review! It really means a lot! :)**

**I know it's technically called Bonfire Night in the UK, but here in America, we don't give a shit about that. In fact, all we know about it pretty much boils down to _V for Vendetta_ and Anonymous. That's pretty much it. **

**So, I'm pretty sure it's obvious that I had writer's block when I wrote this. Well, maybe not writer's block. Maybe more like a writer's frustration? I don't know. All I feel like I did this chapter was spin my wheels and go nowhere. I got some information out to get the storyline to go forward, but otherwise, I'm still stuck in the same ditch. **

**Remember the 5th of November, kids!**

* * *

**Originally uploaded to FFN on 11/5/19.**


	27. Let Me Rest in Peace

**Let's play a game of Good News, Bad News, Good News, Bad News! I'll start!**

* * *

**Monday, January 30th, 2012**

_Five seconds,_ Lara thought as she set her head down. _That's all I need. Five seconds, then I'll get back to work._

By this point, Lara wasn't sure what time it was. She knew that the sun had set some time ago, but other than that she was clueless. After she had cleared Pepper's schedule, task after task had been passed down to her. It wasn't Pepper or her assistant's fault. They were getting bogged down with work, too. That kind of happens when the owner and public face of your company is suddenly hospitalized while your main headquarters is closed off to the public for decontamination purposes. As a result, Lara hadn't gotten a break in hours and technically it wasn't even a real break. She had talked to Bruce on the phone for five minutes and then went right back to work. She was just **so** tired. If she could just keep her head down for five seconds…

"Lara?" A hand on her shoulder immediately caused her to jump. Thinking fast, she slammed her elbow into the person behind her. She pushed out of her chair and spun around, ready for fists to start flying when Pepper's voice finally got through to her. "Lara, it's Pepper! Stop!"

Lara froze for a few seconds, her eyes on Pepper. She didn't look too hurt, thankfully, which gave her some relief. However, it didn't stop humiliation from creeping up on her.

"Sorry," she said. It was really all she could say. This was yet another moment of panic and this time she couldn't really justify it too much. Most likely, she had drifted off and her body's defensive instinct kicked in when Pepper suddenly approached her from behind. This wasn't the first time this had happened. For the past twenty-seven years she'd been trying to break herself of this habit, even going as far as seeing a hypnotherapist, but nothing worked. The best she could do was warn people she might fall asleep around not to try to wake her abruptly. Otherwise, she might attack them as if they were her mother dragging her out of bed at two in the morning to dunk her head in the toilet, because that was exactly what she thought was happening.

To be fair, she did warn Tony of this when she first started working for him. Obviously, she wasn't going to be making falling asleep on the job a habit, but she had been warned that he was infamous for staying up all night working (usually in his lab) and in case she had to accompany him in one of these all-nighters, she thought he should be warned. Tony didn't take her as seriously as he probably should have because the very first time she drifted off while working late with him, he ended up waking her abruptly and she punched him in the chest. Luckily, he wasn't too hurt, and he even took the blame for it. (_"What? You did warn me."_) However, she doubted he told Pepper anything about it (out of respect for her privacy more than anything) and she didn't think "I thought you were going to kill me" was a valid excuse for attacking a superior. (It wasn't at the real estate company she worked at immediately after the Secret Service.) So, essentially, Lara was expecting to be fired right that instant.

Imagine her surprise when Pepper was sympathetic.

"No, no," she said. "It's alright. You didn't hurt me. Are you okay?" Both of Lara's eyebrows shot up, almost reaching her hairline as she brought her gaze up to look at Pepper.

"I'm fine," she said. "And fired, but mostly fine."

"You're not fired," Pepper assured. "You just had a bad dream, right?"

"Sort of," Lara said sheepishly.

"It's fine then," she said. "I know plenty of people who have bad reactions to that sort of thing – Tony being at the top of that list – so believe me, you're fine. You didn't even hurt me." Lara could feel tears pricking at her eyes, so she directed her gaze back down.

"I still should be fired," she said as she carefully dabbed at her eyes, not trying to draw attention to the fact that she was crying. It was futile, though, as Pepper easily noticed. "I just attacked my superior. I should be fired."

"When was the last time you slept?" Pepper asked.

"Last night," Lara said.

"For how long?" Lara hesitated. She wanted to lie, but she couldn't bring herself to.

"Four hours." Pepper frowned.

"Yeah," she said. "I think you've done enough for today. Go home and get some sleep." Lara nodded.

"You're probably right," she said. "What time is it, anyway?"

"11:38." Lara grimaced.

"I'm guessing that's not AM?" Pepper shook her head. "Shit. I hope the subway is still running. I don't want to have to catch a cab."

"I can call Happy and see if he's willing to give you a ride," Pepper offered.

"That's okay," Lara said. "You probably shouldn't wake him up. Besides, I don't want him to lock me in the car again."

"He only did that because he thought the neighborhood you lived in was too dangerous," Pepper said.

"Oh please," Lara said. "Compton's not as bad as Dr. Dre advertises it to be. I never had a problem when I lived there."

"Which still amazes me to this day," Pepper remarked. Lara shrugged.

"You'd be surprised," she said. "Treat people like people and they'll treat you like people."

"That doesn't mean you should do away with caution," Pepper advised.

"I don't," Lara said. "That's why I don't want to have to call a cab. I'm not going to lead a stranger to my home at this time of night."

"Well, in case you have no choice, let me give you cab fare," Pepper said.

"No," Lara said, holding up a hand placatingly. "That's okay. I'm good."

"Please," Pepper said as she looked through her purse. "You've stayed this long helping me. It's the least I can do." She pulled out her wallet, produced two twenties, and held them out to her. Reluctantly, Lara took them as she knew she wasn't going to change Pepper's mind. As she stuffed the bills into her pocket, she tried to plan a way to covertly give them back. The best she could think of was to leave it somewhere where Pepper would notice them, but not necessarily connect that it was the money she gave her. That would work if she was in Pepper's office, but unfortunately that wasn't the case.

Avengers Tower still hadn't been cleared by the CDC yet. Last time they called Pepper, they told her that they would likely be finished inspecting and decontaminating everything by the next morning, but Lara honestly doubted they'd even come close to meeting that deadline. In the meantime, they'd been kicked out of the coffee shop and had to rent a conference room from a nearby hotel, which was what hindered Lara's plan. It wasn't their space and she could easily lose the money if she tried, so she was going to have to wait.

Stretching, Lara stood up, putting on her coat and pulling her messenger back up onto her shoulder.

"Alright," she said. "I'm going to head home then. Are you sure you don't need help with anything?"

"I'm sure," Pepper assured. "Just go home and get some sleep."

"Alright," Lara said. "Thank you for this wonderful opportunity…"

"You're still not fired," Pepper said. "But if you don't come in tomorrow, you will be. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lara said. She started moving towards the door and Agent Morse jumped up to open it for her. As soon as she opened it, though, Freeman was revealed to be on the other side, fist raised as it appeared, he was about to knock. Morse instantly put a hand on her weapon but didn't unholster it.

"Mr. Freeman," Pepper said. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hello, Miss Potts," he said. "I was just coming to get an update on the situation."

"It's nearly midnight," Morse pointed out.

"The media never sleeps," Freeman defended. "And I'm still being pressed for information. You wouldn't happen to know anything?"

"No, I don't," Pepper said. "And you couldn't have called me to ask that?"

"That seemed rather impersonal." Lara rolled her eyes at that response and she could easily tell she wasn't the only one.

"Well, I have nothing for you," Pepper said. "So, if you don't mind…" She stopped abruptly when her phone started ringing. Taking the device off her belt clip and glancing at the screen, her eyes went wide. "I need to take this." Within seconds she was tapping the screen and pulling the phone closer to her ear. Meanwhile, Morse moved so that she was standing more directly in Freeman's way, effectively blocking him from the room.

"Sir, I think it'd be best if you left now," she said.

"But I haven't finished speaking with Miss Potts," Freeman said.

"Yes, you have." Freeman continued to look indignant, causing Lara to roll her eyes again.

"Take my advice," she said. "Do what the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent says before you end up with a steel-toed boot stuck up your ass." Freeman gave her a sharp glare, but before he could properly respond, Pepper caught their attention by hastily hanging up her phone call. Relief was clear on her face.

"That was the CDC," she said. "Tony's blood test came back clean along with Steve's and Romanoff's."

"That's great!" Lara exclaimed before she could even really think about it. When she did, concern laced her voice. "Wait, what about Barton?"

"They didn't say anything about him." Pepper shrugged. "I'm sure he's fine. They probably just want to double check all the tests since he was the one who opened the letter." Lara nodded, but couldn't help but be skeptical of that dismissal. She was startled out of her concern by Freeman clapping his hands behind her.

"That's wonderful news," he said. "I take it we should start preparing a statement."

"Well, I haven't gotten word from S.H.I.E.L.D. yet. I know we shouldn't say anything without their go-ahead." Pepper looked right at Morse, who nodded in confirmation to that. Freeman didn't notice, though.

"Well, I'm sure they'll be getting back to you soon enough," he said. "And besides, the media is going to want a statement in time for the early morning news broadcasts."

"Weren't you supposed to be drafting a statement?" Pepper asked.

"I did," Freeman said. "But it's rather vague. I'm going to need some more details before it's ready to release to the press."

Pepper looked down and bit her lip. The realization of what she was being forced into clearly didn't sit well with her. However, she came to accept it rather quickly. As she looked back up, her gaze went directly to Freeman.

"You're right," she admitted. "If it's not an inconvenience to you, would you like to stay so we can work out the details?" The smile that came across Freeman's face was rather uncanny. Rather begrudgingly, Agent Morse stepped to the side so he could walk into the room.

"Why, I would be absolutely delighted to, Miss Potts." Lara frowned.

"Uh, do you need me to help with anything?" she asked, probably a little too quickly. "Anything at all?"

"No," Pepper said firmly. "I'm good. Go home and get some sleep."

Lara hesitated. She wanted to argue, but she knew she wasn't going to win. She had to just keep the faith that Pepper was smart enough to see right through Freeman and hold her own. Under normal circumstances, Lara would feel very confident in that. However, these weren't normal circumstances. It was almost the middle of the night and Pepper was clearly tired, too. She didn't feel safe leaving her alone with Freeman. Pepper's assistant had already left for the night and even though Morse was going to be there, Lara couldn't help but think three pairs of eyes were better than two.

Again, though, she knew Pepper wasn't going to let her even argue to stay. She was dangerously sleep-deprived, and she knew for a fact that she didn't have enough insulin on her to last until morning. Honestly, she couldn't even convincingly argue with herself to stay. How was she going to convince Pepper? So, she reluctantly nodded.

"Okay," she said. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." She heard Pepper say as she walked out of the room, the door shutting behind her. Lara yawned widely as she started down the hall.

_Yeah, I need to get some sleep._

* * *

**Tuesday, January 31st, 2012**

It felt like forever before S.H.I.E.L.D. let Bruce and Betty go. Well, technically they didn't let them "go." Both would be spending the night in the Hub. Bruce because it still wasn't safe to return to Avengers Tower and Betty simply because she didn't want to fly back to Virginia in the middle of the night. So, S.H.I.E.L.D. had to put them up for the night.

Although they would be staying on separate sides of the building (apparently, being an Avenger afforded Bruce a "VIP Luxury" room. He tried to offer to trade rooms with Betty as it at least sounded a bit more comfortable than the normal S.H.I.E.L.D. fare, but she declined.) Bruce still felt it necessary to walk her to her room. You know, chivalry and all of that. As they walked, they predictably landed back on the topic of Lara. Which was fine for Bruce, but he still couldn't help but feel weird about talking about her with his ex-girlfriend. Mostly because he shouldn't feel weird because Lara was only his **friend**, right?

Right?

_Right?_

"So, Lara," Betty had started off the conversation with. "She's nice?"

"Oh, yeah," Bruce said. "I mean she's French. Sometimes she'll slip up and do or say something wrong because this isn't her culture or language, but she's always apologetic for it. She also takes responsibility for things that aren't her fault…"

"Gee doesn't that sound familiar," Betty commented.

"What are you talking about?" Bruce asked.

"Senior year of college," she said. "I made a very minor mistake on a term paper and got an A- as a result. You went and apologized to my professor for distracting me and got him to bump it up to an A."

"Well, I was distracting you," Bruce tried to defend.

"You weren't even in the room when I wrote the paper," Betty pointed out.

"We had just gotten into that argument about our post-graduate studies," Bruce said. "You can't tell me that wasn't on your mind."

"It wasn't," Betty said. "But never mind that. Other than that character defect, what else do you have in common?"

"A few things," Bruce said. "Although, she's not an expert in any science, she does seem interested whenever I talk about it. Like really interested. She asks follow-up questions and doesn't dismiss everything I say as non-sense. So, I feel like I can talk to her about that, and some other things. I get the sense that she didn't have the greatest childhood growing up either…"

"Did you tell her about…"

"No," Bruce said cutting Betty off before she could say the words aloud. "I haven't told her about what my father did, or anyone else for that matter. You, Jennifer, and obviously the Police are still the only ones that know." A guilty look crossed Betty's face.

"Sorry," she said. "I know you don't like talking about it. I shouldn't have mentioned…"

"You're fine," Bruce assured. "I'm not mad."

"That much is obvious," Betty said. Bruce kind of had to laugh uncomfortably. "But she's your friend?"

"Yeah," Bruce said. "Just a friend, though, is all."

"Mm-hm." The smirk on Betty's face made it clear that she didn't believe a single word of that. "What about the Avengers? You're friends with them, too, right?"

"I guess so," Bruce said. "I mean, the total amount of time we've all known each other probably only tallies up to about a week, but we did save the world together, so that has to account for something."

"I'm sure it does." Betty looked at him with a genuine smile on her face. "I'm happy for you." Bruce couldn't help it, he snorted at that declaration. "I'm serious, I really am."

"Well, I'm not sure what there is to be happy about," Bruce said. "I mean, there's still the threat of the Other Guy going on a rampage through the city if I so much as stub my toe."

"True," Betty said. "And I'm not dismissing that. I'm just… Happy you've found people."

"I didn't really find them," Bruce pointed out. "I was kind of forced into it."

"But you stayed, right?" Bruce couldn't argue with that, so he nodded in agreement. "So, you found them. You found a group of people that at the very least, share a similar burden to you. Sure, that burden might not be turning into a giant green monster, but they still can relate in some way and you're all working together to achieve the same goal; protecting the world. In the end, that's more than what I could have wanted for you, especially considering all that time you isolated yourself."

"I needed to do that," Bruce said. "It was the only way I could stop myself from hurting other people."

_It was the only way I could stop myself from hurting you,_ he mentally added.

"No," Betty said. "What you needed was to find people who understood. That's all, and clearly, I couldn't do that, my dad certainly couldn't, and there was no one really supporting you outside of that. Now you have that support and I couldn't be happier for you."

"Thanks, Betty," Bruce said. "And listen, can I just apologize…"

"It wasn't your fault I ended up in the hospital that day." A surprised look crossed Bruce's face. "Like I said, Bruce, you apologize when things aren't really your fault. I know that character defect well. If you're still beating yourself up about it, don't. I'm fine. Yeah, I had a few broken bones, but I'm still here. None of us could have predicted that the experiment would take a turn like that. I thought we had Erskine's notes cracked to a T, but apparently, we didn't. It's not your fault, or anyone else's. It was just an accident." Bruce slowly nodded.

"Okay," he said. "I understand." Truly accepting that would take much longer, though, but Betty seemed to understand that.

"Good," she said with a small smile.

"And for what it's worth, I'm happy for you and Leonard, too. I hope you have a wonderful wedding day." Betty's smile grew wider.

"You won't have to hope," she said. "Because you're going to be there."

"What?" Bruce blinked in confusion.

"You heard me," Betty said. "You're invited to my wedding."

"Uh, are you sure that's a good idea?" Bruce asked nervously.

"Absolutely," Betty said. "I know Leonard won't mind and my father is not going to be there. Also, we're having an outdoor wedding at a place that's a little off the beaten path, so there's not going to be much in the way of property damage either." For once, Bruce ignored the part of his brain that urged him to stay away from people and smiled.

"That sounds wonderful, Betty. I would love to go." The biggest grin exploded across her face.

"That's awesome!" she exclaimed. "Thank you!"

"Thank you for inviting me," Bruce said.

"Oh, there's my room," Betty said, gesturing to a door that was now only a few feet ahead of them. The number on it matched the one on the sheet Hill had given them. Crossing the distance, they both came to a stop outside the door.

"It was good seeing you again." Bruce said.

"You too," Betty said. "You have my number, right?"

"I've already saved it in my contacts," Bruce confirmed.

"Good," Betty said. "And my e-mail address is still the same, so you have no reason not to check in every once in a while."

"Will do," Bruce said. "If I don't see you tomorrow, I'd like to say goodbye." Betty smiled.

"Bye Bruce," she said as she pulled him in for a hug. "Take care of yourself."

"You too, Betty." He gave her a good-natured pat on the back as he pulled away. The two of them parted soon after, still on good terms. Bruce started heading to his room, feeling much better than he thought he would when he started the day.

Okay, that was probably bad considering Barton was fighting for his life against two super-bugs at the same time. That alone made the day horrific in every sense of the word, but the one bright side had been seeing Betty again. Lara was right. He did need some closure on that relationship, and he was glad that he got it.

Bruce had just reached his room when he heard his phone chime, indicating that he had a text message. He pulled the device from his pocket and tapped the screen to see what it said.

Betty Samson: P.S. Tell Lara she's invited to my wedding, too.

* * *

After the commotion of intubating Barton had died down and the doctors had retreated from the room, things became far to eerily quiet. Tony understood that Barton was intubated and unable to talk. Having been in that position before, Tony knew how much it sucked. He knew he could try to talk to Barton anyway – at least to attempt to entertain and/or distract him from the horrible situation he was in – but Tony found himself in a bit of a compromising position.

Dr. Smith had told him that they believed that the powder had been genetically modified Ebola and H5N1. While the idea of that terrified him, at the same time he realized that he probably didn't have it. Other than throwing up that one time, he hadn't been sick at all. In fact, he felt much better than he had in days. Either he wasn't infected, or the combination of Ebola and H5N1 was a miracle cure for withdrawal symptoms.

However, he was certain that Barton was, in fact, infected. Other than the near suffocation and intubation, Tony had noticed that he hadn't been feeling well. Barton's nose was stuffed up, his voice was raspy, he broke out in coughing fits, and he had spent most of the time that they had been quarantined sleeping. Although he couldn't see him, Tony could imagine that Barton looked terrible. Hearing the doctors' assessment of Barton's condition only solidified the idea in his mind.

This was where the compromising position came in. Right off the bat, Tony noticed that none of the doctors had disclosed to Barton that the powder was likely Ebola and H5N1. That unnerved him a certain extent, mostly because it meant he knew something about Barton's health that Barton didn't know himself. Technically, that wasn't Dr. Smith's fault. The make-up of the powder was a threat to Tony's health, too, so it wasn't like she revealed private information. There was no HIPPA violation there. It wasn't against the law to figure out something for yourself.

For whatever reason, though, Dr. Wayne chose not to disclose this information to Barton. Not once did Tony hear him mention either disease. That was a problem because Barton didn't know everything about his health that he could. That had to be a violation of some law. After all, no one wanted a repeat of the Tuskegee Project. Before Tony could even call Wayne out on this, he and the other doctors left the room, which put Tony in this bad position.

As stated before, Barton was intubated and couldn't communicate. Well, technically he could through ASL, but Tony didn't know ASL and even if he did, he couldn't see Barton thanks to the dark gray vinyl divider that separated them. Tony could pull the sheet back if he wanted to, but then he'd run the risk of being exposed. Normally, he wouldn't care about the risk and run in there to tell Barton right away, but ultimately Tony wasn't sure if that was what Barton wanted. He had said himself that if he was dying, he wouldn't want to know. On the one hand, Tony wanted to respect Barton's wishes. On the other hand, this just plain felt wrong and he wanted to do something about it.

Debating over the issue kept Tony up, which was honestly a blessing in disguise. Even though he knew getting sober was the best thing for him right now, he was scared to fall asleep without having something to drink first. He was being honest when he told Steve that drinking helped him sleep because it really did. He would sleep soundly through the night if he had something to drink beforehand and if he had any nightmares, they would be dulled. They wouldn't have the same horrifying, panic-inducing effect that would shock him out of sleep if he were sober. That was the worst part of the nightmares and honestly, he didn't want to go through it while a bunch of strangers monitored him on closed-circuit television. So, the distress was a good thing. It kept him awake and therefore kept the nightmares away.

Well, not all the nightmares. At some point – Tony honestly didn't know when because he had finally lost all concept of time – Dr. Smith came into the room, noticeably without any protective gear on. Tony knew what that meant.

"Mr. Stark," she said. "If you would just please follow me…"

"I'm not infected, am I?" he asked rhetorically. Smith kept her face neutral.

"I can't say," she said.

"But Barton is." He hoped Barton was awake and heard that. He made a point to say it loudly, so likely, he did. Tony was just hoping he didn't do the wrong thing. The stern looks on Smith's face said that he might have.

"Stark," she said. "Come, now." The fire in her eyes made him not want to argue. He got up out of bed and followed Smith through the door.

Before they entered the main room where the doctors were working and monitoring them, they had to walk through what looked like a giant 360-degree shower. It was most likely used to decontaminate doctors as they went in and out of the room, but it noticeably wasn't turned on now because nobody needed to be decontaminated.

Inside the doctor's station, Smith led Tony to an empty table and chair. Tony didn't even get a chance the properly look around before Smith started talking.

"You're right," she said. "On both accounts. Your blood test came back clean, while Barton tested positive for Ebola and H5N1. However, that doesn't give you the authority…"

"The authority to what?" Tony asked. "Tell a dying man the truth about his health?"

"That wasn't your call to make," Smith said. "Nor was it mine, sadly." Tony's eyebrows narrowed.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Smith sighed.

"I didn't think it was right for Dr. Wayne to withhold that information from Agent Barton," she explained. "That's why I told you right away; you had the right to know. Dr. Wayne disagreed. He wanted to wait until we knew for sure that it was Ebola and H5N1. I tried to convince him otherwise, but since I'm only here to consult on **your** physiology and health, I was ignored." Tony frowned.

"Is he going to tell him now?" he asked.

"He's going to have to, thanks to you." Tony nodded.

"Good."

"It still wasn't your place to tell him," Smith pointed out.

"I'll keep that in mind, doc." Tony got the sense that if Smith could roll her eyes without destroying all semblance of professionalism, she would. "Now what?"

"Now, you're free to go," Smith said. "There's already a nurse getting a fresh set of scrubs for you. I don't know if Avengers Tower has been cleared by the CDC yet, but I can find out."

Tony didn't immediately respond. Instead, he turned to look around the room. Various doctors were walking around, consulting with each other and monitoring several different screens. Most of them just displayed information – likely Barton's vitals, but Tony didn't want to look closer to confirm it – but the largest screen of them all displayed something different; the live CCTV video of Barton lying in the hospital bed, intubated.

The image made Tony sick. Barton looked terrible. In addition to the intubation, he had many IVs and wires attached to him. He was very pale, and a pained expression was clear on what Tony could see of his face. The worst part of it was that Barton was all alone. He had no one there to comfort him, or at the very least show support for him.

_It doesn't have to be that way._ Tony looked back at Smith, a somber look on his face.

"Actually," he said. "I think I'll stay here." Smith raised her eyebrows.

"Really?" she said. "Are you sure you don't want to go somewhere more comfortable? Get some rest?" Tony shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said. "I'm just not leaving him alone." Smith slowly nodded in understanding.

"Okay," she said. "You can stay in here until the nurse comes back with that spare set of scrubs. After that, you're going to have to move to one of the waiting rooms. Understand?"

"I do." Smith nodded before getting up from the table. Tony looked back at the screen that showed Barton."

_I am so sorry this is happening to you._

* * *

Natasha was another person who hadn't been able to sleep. The closest things to beds they had in that quarantine room were hard plastic exam tables. Obviously, it wasn't made to accommodate long-term stays. She made a mental note to log a complaint with Stark. That was, if she ever saw him again.

She didn't think Steve had gotten any sleep either. Although she had gotten him to stop pacing and calm down a bit, that didn't erase all the underlying anxiety. They had tried to play games to pass the time, but given that Steve didn't know much about pop culture and there wasn't a deck of cards to be found, they were stuck playing "Guess What Number I'm Thinking Of." That game eventually petered out and both had decided to call it a night (or afternoon. It was hard to determine the passage of time when you were in a place without clocks or sunlight.)

Natasha glanced over at Steve a few times and found him to be motionless, staring up at the ceiling. Each time she wondered what was going on in her fellow Super Soldier's brain, but she eventually decided that she didn't want to know. After all, the worst-case scenarios he was likely imaging for Stark could easily be happening to Clint, too.

After many hours had passed, it seemed like the silence was going to be endless. The only interruption they got was when the nurse came by to check on them and even then, she didn't say anything. She just walked over, took a quick look at each of them, and then walked away. It wasn't until the doors suddenly slid open that the silence was finally broken.

"Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff, you're needed in the field, now." The sound of Commander Hill's voice instantly caused them to perk up. Both Natasha and Steve scrambled off the exam tables and rushed to meet her.

"What do you mean?" Steve said. "I thought we had to wait for the CDC to do something."

"The CDC has already cleared the both of you. No deadly diseases or contagions were found. Stark's been cleared as well." Steve could be heard letting out a breath of relief while Natasha held hers. "We have very strong evidence pointing at one primary suspect. Local PD in Newark, New Jersey already have her contained, but she's refusing to talk. They could use some help getting the info out of her and arresting any accomplices." Hill was looking Nat directly in the eye during that last sentence. It was clear that it was addressed to her specifically, but she couldn't care. In response, she kept her face blank and her tone firm, yet dark.

"What about Clint?" Hill bit her lip and in three seconds flat she had gone from all-business to sympathetic.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

**Thank you to mfaerie32 and The Other Jet Engine on FFN for the reviews! It really means a lot.**

**So, GOOD NEWS, I've already started on chapter twenty-eight. BAD NEWS, I've only written 177 words so far. GOOD NEWS, my next post-date isn't until November 22nd (Mark Ruffalo and Scarlett Johansson's Birthday.) BAD NEWS, I am currently sick, have two doctor appointments and lunch with my dad to go to between then and now, which may impede my ability to write. GOOD NEWS, stuff is actually going to happen next chapter, so when I do finish it we should be in a different place than we are now. BAD NEWS, you're going to get put through a wringer and probably hate me more. Gee, isn't this game fun!**

**Happy Veteran's Day/Armistice Day to all the Veterans out there. I personally come from a military family. My grandfather on my dad's side was in the Navy, my grandfather on my mother's side was in the Army, my father was in the Air Force, my mother was in the Army, both my brother and one of my cousins was in the Marine Corps, and my sister was in the National Guard. I also believe two of my maternal grandmother's brothers served in World War II, but I have no idea what branch of the military they served in. Regardless, I'm proud to say all of these people have fought both domestically and abroad for all of us to have the rights and freedoms we have in this country today and I'm thankful to all of them.**

**Remember kids, I'm only one person and I'm not a wizard.**

* * *

**Originally posted to FFN on 11/11/19. **


	28. NHL

**I hate telling you this, but we've hit a dead-end.**

* * *

**Tuesday, January 31st, 2012**

The woman who had "supposedly" sent the letter was Maurita Sharpton. She was COO of New Horizons Labs – a division of Roxxon, LLC. She was also the mother of Tessa Sharpton, an eighteen-year-old newly enrolled student at Empire State University. She had been out on Park Avenue on the day of the Chitauri Invasion and had ignored the police when they asked her to evacuate the area. As a result, she had been beheaded by a Chitauri soldier. It was a little hard to feel sorry for her, though, especially when you considered the fact that the woman had resorted to bioterrorism to avenge her daughter's death.

The Sharptons lived in the upscale suburbs of Newark. Tessa had been their only child, so only Maurita and her husband had been home when the New Jersey State Police and the nearest S.T.R.I.K.E. team busted into the house to arrest her. Sharpton went without putting up a fight, but she was refusing to talk, other than to ask if anyone had been infected. Hence, the need for Natasha's skills.

The drive out to Newark felt longer than it should have. It was supposed to be one hour, but to Natasha it felt more like ten years. Her thoughts were mostly on Laura and the kids. Although she, Clint, and Laura had all planned for what to do if Clint was killed on a mission, planning for it and carrying it out were two different things. None of them could prepare for that hurt. They liked to pretend they could, but the truth was it was impossible.

Already, Natasha was feeling that hurt. Clint wasn't dead yet. Hill assured her of that much, but things weren't looking good. Even though it had only been less than twenty-four hours, Clint had already progressed to the "spewing blood out of every orifice" stage of Ebola. Apparently, despite being one of the most well-known symptoms of the disease, uncontrolled bleeding usually didn't start until five to seven days after becoming infected. The disease had been genetically modified, most likely to speed up the time frame of its progression. As a result, Clint was on a ventilator, likely only hours away from death. That was, unless Natasha could get Sharpton to talk.

S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't looking for a confession. They had more than enough evidence to nail Sharpton no matter how she plead. They wanted to know if there was any way to fix what had been done. Obviously, there was no cure for Ebola. You could only give the infected person an IV, put them on a ventilator, and monitor their blood pressure. The rest was up to how their body responded to the treatment. However, there was a chance that Sharpton had an ace up her sleeve; something that could undo the anti-biotic resistant aspects of the virus' modifications and allow them to be able to treat Clint better. It was a longshot, but if there was any chance of saving him, Natasha would take it.

S.H.I.E.L.D. only gave them enough time to change into their uniforms and gather their weapons before departing. Natasha didn't waste any time and got as many weapons as she could. She had four guns, seventeen knives, and at least a dozen other weapons hidden somewhere on her person. As they pulled up to the Maplewood, New Jersey Police Station, she ran through a mental checklist of all of them. This wasn't to make sure that she had them, but rather to remember all the possible combinations of wounds and injuries she could inflict upon Sharpton. It helped keep her calm and her head in the zone.

When they finally pulled up to the building, they found that the entire Maplewood Police Department had come out to greet them. There were even people in bathrobes and pajamas, looking as though they had teleported straight from bed to the station. Luckily – as far as Natasha could tell – no members of the media had gathered. So, at least that was a relief.

What wasn't a relief was the round of applause she and Steve got as they exited the vehicle. It was startling, but Natasha didn't let it show under her emotionless mask. When the people started to crowd around them, though, it became a little bit harder to do so. It wasn't until Hill started screaming at the crowd to back off that they finally started to. Slowly but surely, the three could make their way inside, though not without the occasional shouts of their names and the flashes of cell phone cameras.

Once they were inside, the Chief of Police walked right up to them. He fumblingly apologized for the unwanted attention, blaming it all on a rookie who posted that the Avengers were coming on Facebook. Hill didn't even dignify the apology with a response and demanded that they be taken to where Sharpton was being held.

The Chief led them down a corridor to a viewing room. There, on the other side of the one-way mirror, sat a woman in her mid-fifties with graying reddish-blonde hair. She looked tired and her hands were cuffed behind her back, but she still held herself with perfect posture and composure. It was almost a little too perfect. As the Chief explained how no one could get her to talk, Hill side-eyed Natasha.

"I think you'll find, sir, that Agent Romanoff will be more than capable of getting Mrs. Sharpton to talk." Hill nodded, giving Natasha permission to go ahead and join Sharpton. As Nat turned, she heard the Chief give a loud guffaw.

"No offence to you or your Agent, Commander," he said. "But no one's gotten Sharpton to talk. Not even your other agents. What makes you think she'll be able to get something out of her?"

"Because she's Russian and pissed," Hill responded without missing a beat. Natasha didn't hear any more of the conversation as she shut the door behind her, heading a few feet down the hall to the interrogation room where Sharpton was being held.

Opening the door, Natasha stepped into the room without a word. Sharpton turned to look at her and instantly recognition crossed her face. She knew who she was.

"The Black Widow," Sharpton remarked. "I really hoped it'd be you who opened the letter, you murderous bitch."

Natasha said nothing as she shut the door behind her and crossed the room to the chair opposite Sharpton. The two stared at each other silently for a moment. Sharpton's gaze carried all the hate in the world while Nat's face remained cold, calculated, and impassive. Slowly, she lowered herself into the chair, placing her hands down on the metal table, folded on top or each other. Another staring contest ensued until Sharpton finally became annoyed enough to speak up again.

"So, are you finally going to tell me who got infected, or are you just going to waste my time like everyone else?" Natasha remained silent. Sharpton sighed. "You know, I don't know what you people are waiting for. I've already confessed, so if you just tell me if anyone's been infected…"

"No one's been infected," Natasha said. "The letter was intercepted by Stark Industries security before anyone could be hurt." Sharpton laughed.

"Excuse me if I find that hard to believe," she said. Natasha leaned a little closer and spoke in a firm tone.

"No one was infected," she said. "Your plan failed." Her words seemed to have the desired effect, as Sharpton's face fell.

"That can't be right," she said.

"Believe it," Natasha said. "And as you've said, you've already confessed, so there's no reason for you to keep up the silent treatment."

"I don't have to say anything to you," Sharpton said. "You murdered my daughter."

"Your daughter was killed by the Chitauri," Natasha said. "If she evacuated when the police told her to, I assure you, she would still be alive today."

"Oh, sure," Sharpton said. "Blame the victim. My Tessa was a smart girl. If the police told her to leave, she'd leave. She died because of your ineptitude."

"We did everything we could," Natasha said.

"No, you didn't!" Sharpton shouted. "I saw the story on the news! S.H.I.E.L.D. had captured Loki in Germany a full day before the Invasion even happened! For him to have been able to escape in the first place tells me that this could have been preventable; that this was all the Avengers' fault! Now you're all being celebrated like heroes, but you're not! All you people are just monsters in masks!"

Sharpton had stood from her seat as she shouted. Her voice continued to crescendo until it reached its breaking point. Natasha remained impassive through it all. Sharpton wanted to get her emotional and she wouldn't give her the satisfaction of that. Instead, she waited to see if Sharpton had anything to add. She clearly didn't as the sound of her ragged breathing filled the space.

"If you're done, would you mind sitting back down? I'd hate to make you." Sharpton gave Natasha a nasty look but complied. "Good. Now, if you wouldn't mind telling us who else involved in your plot…"

"It was only me," Sharpton said a little too quickly. Natasha pulled one of her knives from its concealed holster and slammed it down flat on the table. Sharpton jumped, but Nat gave no explanation. She just continued to bore her gaze into Sharpton's fearful eyes. "What is wrong with you?" she eventually gasped out.

"I don't like liars," Natasha said. "You can call me a 'murderous bitch' until you're blue in the face but waste my time by lying to me and we're going to have a problem."

"I'm telling the truth!" Natasha stood up, grabbing the knife and rounding the table to the other side. She stood still until Sharpton was forced to look up at her.

"I know that can't be the truth," she said. "Yeah, you're COO of a cosmetics production facility, but you got put there for business reasons. You hold no science degrees. You had to have had help to pull this off. Who?"

"Does it even really matter?" Sharpton said. "I didn't even get to kill you, or your little boy toy, or that faggot Stark!"

Natasha had the blade at Sharpton's throat in an instant. Although the interrogation and viewing rooms were supposed to be separated by a sound-proof wall (to prevent suspects from being able to identify investigators and victims by voice) but thanks to her enhanced hearing, she could hear a short scuffle go down in the next room. Likely, Steve had charged at the window and Hill had tried to hold him back. She couldn't blame him. She so badly wanted to make a move against Sharpton herself, but she couldn't. If she killed her now, they would lose all the information that she had, and they really couldn't afford that right now. Clint couldn't afford that right now.

Sharpton squeezed her eyes shut, a few tears slipping out. Natasha kept her grip on both Sharpton's hair and the knife firm. Her expression was cool as she leaned down closer to her face.

"Who?" Sharpton let out a piercing cry at the demand, but other more helpful sounds quickly followed it.

"I swear to God, I'm telling the truth!" she screamed. "I didn't tell anyone! I took the samples from Dr. Subarian without him knowing!"

Natasha let go of Sharpton and took a step back. Sharpton started hysterically panting, fat tears rolling down her face. Nat only waited for her to compose herself enough to be able to put together a coherent sentence before questioning her further.

"Dr. Subarian?" Sharpton shook her head as if mentally berating herself for revealing the information in the first place. However, she was still able to continue.

"Caleb Subarian," she said. "He's one of our heads of R&D and he wanted to expand our area of research from over-the-counter pharmaceuticals to preventative medicines."

"Preventative?" Natasha questioned.

"He wanted to make vaccinations and treatments for various biological agents more accessible for the average consumer," Sharpton explained. "Something about 'dark times ahead' and people needing to be prepared for the worst-case scenarios. I don't remember, but it sounded like a good idea to me. He wanted to test his vaccines against both the unaltered and altered versions of the diseases, but in order to do that he needed to be able to expose subjects to the diseases. We had the equipment and took all the safety precautions but couldn't get approval from the CDC. So, we obtained the diseases from the Black Market and Dr. Subarian headed up the research."

"So, you could poison us," Natasha said.

"I just told you," Sharpton said. "Research! Dr. Subarian wasn't using it for anything else. I went down to his lab on Friday night, took the two scariest-sounding samples I could find, and sealed it all in that letter. I did all the research beforehand. I used a lipstick that had accidentally been produced with far too much lead to get around postal irradiation. I put the letter in the mailbox. Subarian knew about none of it, I swear!"

Natasha stared her down with a gaze of sharp scrutiny. She looked for any sign that Sharpton was lying, but all she saw was a coward that didn't want to die. She narrowed her eyes.

"Subarian," she said. "Where is he?"

"At the labs, probably," Sharpton said. "He hardly ever leaves, even for holidays." Natasha brought a hand to her earpiece.

"You get that, Hill?" she asked.

"Roger that." Hill's voice came through the device as clear as a bell. "S.T.R.I.K.E. forces are being ordered to converge on New Horizons Labs as we speak."

"Tell them to hurry," Natasha said as she started rushing towards the door. "And to keep Subarian in one piece. We don't have a lot of time and he's got the answers we need."

"I thought you said no one was infected." Natasha stopped dead in her tracks just before the door. She didn't give Sharpton the satisfaction of turning around to face her. Instead, she remained facing the door, which allowed anger to cross her face freely.

"What?" she ground out.

"You said no one was infected, but you wouldn't be so eager to talk to Dr. Subarian unless someone's life was on the line." Natasha didn't correct her. She got the information she needed. There was no reason to keep up the lie. At least, not a tactical one. "Oh, which one was it? Stark? The monster? Your little boyfriend?"

Natasha flung the door open and stepped out, slamming it shut behind her using her full strength. She could hear wood splintering and the loud clangs of what she could only assume to be the door hinges popping out of their proper places. Honestly, she couldn't even bring herself to care. She turned and marched straight down the hall, completely determined to save Clint's life.

* * *

Steve was angry. It was hard not to be. This woman had tried to poison him and his entire team then had the audacity to use that slur against Tony. That would be enough to set anyone off. Luckily, he still had the awareness not to do anything that would hurt anyone. Hill grabbed his arm as he began to charge at the window, and he managed to stop himself. Honestly, the worst he probably would have done was break the viewing window. Even with everything she did, Sharpton was not worth breaking his moral codes.

He did wonder for a moment, though, whether she'd be worth it to Natasha. When she initially brought out the knife, he wasn't worried. It was clearly just a threat. He didn't think she was going to do something. That was until Sharpton used that word. Then, the blade was at her throat.

After Hill had stopped him from taking drastic action, Steve found himself holding his breath, waiting to see if anything would stop Natasha from doing the same. For a moment, he even wondered if she was doing this for his benefit, given that it came right after the slur. However, just one brief glance into her eyes told him that this wasn't the case. There was a fire there; real fury. She **wanted** to hurt this woman. Steve looked to Hill to gauge her reaction. She didn't look concerned as far as he could tell, so he decided to trust her judgment.

Thankfully, it ended up being correct. As soon as Sharpton gave Natasha the information she wanted, she let her go. Steve let out the breath he'd been holding. There was a little bit of a resurgence of the fear when Natasha froze as she started to leave, but thankfully she took all her aggression out on the door rather than on Sharpton. The Police Chief let out a sharp gasp of surprise, but Steve and Hill were unphased and quickly left to catch up with her.

Natasha was on a warpath. She barely took notice of her surroundings as she passed, which wasn't a problem until she was outside, marching straight into the assembled crowd of gawkers. Steve and Hill found themselves apologizing for her to all the people she bumped into and shoved. It took longer than it should have and by the time they got back to the S.H.I.E.L.D. car, Nat was already sitting in the backseat, her arms crossed impatiently.

Hill jumped into the passenger's seat, giving the driver the address for New Horizons Labs before spouting orders into her comms unit. Steve, meanwhile, got in the backseat with Natasha. The tension was palpable. Steve knew he had to break the silence before it snapped violently.

"What was that?" Natasha didn't even bother to look at him.

"That was me, getting information," she said. "What else could it be?"

"You actually wanted to hurt her." Natasha didn't even flinch at the accusation.

"Didn't you?"

_Yes. _Steve wanted to feel terrible for the thought, but he couldn't bring himself to. That woman had tried to hurt him. She had tried to hurt his friends and almost succeeded on one account. Most importantly, though, she had tried to hurt Tony. That was enough to breed enough hate in Steve's heart to even consider doing something so heinous. _My mother would be so ashamed of me._

Regardless, Steve kept a cool face and his gaze on Natasha.

"You would have actually done it." Again, Natasha remained unphased.

"If she gave me an excuse, yes." Steve continued to look disapproving. Natasha finally gave up and looked over at him. "She tried to hurt us. She **did** hurt Clint."

"He's not dead yet, though," Steve pointed out. "And he wouldn't want you to do it." Natasha gave a weak chuckle at the notion.

"Are you kidding me?" she said. "He'd be cheering me on!" Slowly, Steve grew concerned.

"Natasha…"

"She hurt my **family**, Steve," she said. "I've already lost half of my family. If I lose the other half…" Natasha swallowed hard. "I won't take that. Not at all."

At that point, everything lapsed into silence. Natasha turned to face the window, clearly not interested in discussing the matter further. Steve relented and turned his gaze to his window. The speed of the car and the pitch blackness of the night made it hard to really see anything, but Steve kept his gaze affixed outside. Honestly, it was much better than trying to push the issue further.

* * *

Almost as soon as they arrived at New Horizon's Labs, Natasha jumped out of the car. They had overheard Hill's communications with the S.T.R.I.K.E. team and knew that they were not supposed to proceed in their search of the building until she got there. However, the S.T.R.I.K.E. team had already spoken to the building's security. They had confirmed that Subarian was inside and got information about where he was likely to be. They also quietly locked down the entire facility. The only clearly accessible way was through the front doors, and if Subarian tried to flee, he'd just run straight into S.H.I.E.L.D.

Natasha was quick to join the S.T.R.I.K.E. team as orders and directions were being given out. At Hill's urging, Steve joined them as well and listened carefully, but he still couldn't help but notice Nat's demeanor and feel concerned for her. Although she stood perfectly still and kept her posture confidently erect, it was clear she couldn't wait to get to Subarian. He could practically see a tiny Nat standing in her pupil, banging her fists against here eye wall, screaming for everyone to hurry up. The idea of that only made Steve less sure about this operation.

The plan was simple. The S.T.R.I.K.E. team would enter through the front door, then split off into two groups. One would proceed to the second floor using the eastern stairwell, while the other would use the western one. The lab Subarian worked in was roughly in the center of the second floor, so the plan was to spread out and surround the lab from all sides, effectively blocking off all the possible exits. Natasha was the one tasked with making the arrest. Steve had to hold his tongue about his concerns. He just had to have faith that his teammate wouldn't do anything irrational.

The plan went off without a hitch. Well, at least at first. Steve headed east with his group while Natasha went west with hers. Once they got to the second floor, the group dissolved as each person took up their designated positions. Steve had almost reached his when he heard gunshots go off. He already knew who it was.

Giving orders for the rest of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team to stand down, Steve rushed to the location of Subarian's lab. Unsurprisingly, he found Natasha standing in the hallway, directly standing in front of the window overlooking the lab. She had one of her guns drawn. Getting closer to the scene, Steve could see a man in protective gear on the other side of the glass, holding his hands up in surrender. This had to be Dr. Subarian. He also noticed that the glass didn't appear to be cracked or broken. Trailing his eyes upwards, he spotted the bullet holes in the ceiling title directly above Nat.

_Warning shots, then._ Steve was careful to keep his approach slow and his voice calm, yet authoritative.

"Agent Romanoff," he said. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Quiet, Captain," Natasha said, her eyes firmly on Subarian. "The Black Widow is working." Steve was going to say something to counter that, but Subarian beat him with his pleading.

"Please," he said. "You have to believe me! I had no idea anything had been taken from my lab! I've been so overloaded with my normal work; I haven't even checked on my side projects in weeks! I swear!"

"Oh, I believe you," Natasha said. "No worries there. I just need to know how to fix this."

"It can't be fixed!" Subarian said. "There is no cure for Ebola or H5N1! That's common knowledge! I don't know what you were expecting!"

"A fail-safe," Natasha said. "Something to keep the diseases from spreading on a massive scale if they were to get out."

"Yes, I have those," Subarian said. "Of course, I have those, but they're not miracle cures!"

"Tell me about them." Subarian hesitated, mostly out of fear. "Tell me!"

"Natasha!" She didn't look at Steve, despite the outburst. Subarian finally regained the ability to speak.

"I made alterations to the diseases," he said. "One of which was to accelerate the speed at which the diseases – specifically the Ebola – progressed."

"I don't see how that's a fail-safe," Natasha said.

"Trust me," Subarian said. "It is! It speeds up the rate at which the disease matures and deteriorates inside the body, making it so the person is only infected for twenty-four hours until the bug dies."

"It dies?" Natasha questioned.

"Yes," Subarian quickly confirmed. "It's also no longer contagious at that point."

"And the infected person, they'll be fine?" Subarian hesitated to respond.

"Well, it depends," he said.

"On what?" Natasha snapped.

"The person," Subarian said. "How healthy they are, how they respond to treatment, whether or not they develop other infections…"

"Could someone survive that?" Natasha demanded to know.

"I just said, it depends…"

"Could they?" Subarian.

"Without knowing anything about the person or the type of treatment they have access to, I'd have to rate their chance of survival at about fifty percent." Devastation crossed Natasha's face. "I'm sorry."

Slowly, Natasha started to lower her gun. Steve came up next to her and gently pried the weapon from her fingers. She let him. Her gaze drifted down to the ground and for a moment, Steve worried that she was going to fall over. However, Nat was strong enough to keep herself upright, so the concern ended up not being necessary. Steve brought his hand up to his comms unit and asked for a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to come and assist in the arrest. After all, it was clear Nat wasn't going to be able to do it.

* * *

**Thank you to mfaerie32 for the review and Juliet1996 favorite and follow on FFN, and YueRyong and the guest who left kudos on AO3! It really means a lot!**

**Alright, now I need to elaborate on what I mean by a "dead-end" and I really don't want to... Anyway, here we go. I am officially out of material to cover my post dates. How do I know this? Because my next post date was supposed to be November 24th and I don't have a chapter ready to go. I have only written 1,776 words of Chapter Twenty-Nine and if I had to make an estimate, it's probably going to be around four-thousand words in length. I can't write approximately 3,300 in two days, especially when I have a family engagement to go to tomorrow. **

**So what's the plan from here out? Well, I am going to write Chapter Twenty-Nine and as soon as I have it completely written and typed out, I will post it on this site. This is mostly because I realize what a crappy note I'm leaving people on here and I want to give you some hope before we hit a large bout of radio silence. I'm going to give December 2nd as a tentative date because after this family thing I have tomorrow there's US Thanksgiving and a few other things that will be happening next week that will take the majority of my attention. As I've stated before, I'm only one person and I'm not a wizard, so please be patient with me while I try to work around these things.**

**After that, I'm going to be taking another break from posting. I don't know how long it's going to last because it depends on how long it takes me to hit a certain story point. Once I hit that story point, I'm going to pause writing this fic to work on a little extension of it. Basically, there's a story point that I originally planned to be in this story (it's in my outline and everything) but the more I've written this story the more I've realized that it doesn't really jive with the rest of it - partially for content reasons, partially for pacing reasons - but I think it's kind of important to not only Steve and Tony's relationship but also gives some insight into Tony and Rhodey's friendship. (You heard it here, folks! Rhodey's actually going to cooperate with me for this! It's a Thanksgiving Miracle!) **

**I think at most the story will be a two or three-shot (cross my fingers that I'm right) and once I have that finished, I'm going to start writing and posting for this story again. When I reach that story point (and don't worry, I will give you an indication in-story when we're supposed to hit that point) I will pause updating this fic to post that one and once that story is completed, then I'll resume posting for this fic, hopefully until the end. When can you expect this all to take place? Uh... Follow me on Twitter and Tumblr, I'll post updates there.**

**I hope I haven't confused anyone with this. I really am sorry for not planning better. To be honest, I was hoping to have this story finished by this point, but things don't always go as you hope. That should be the title of my autobiography...**

**Alright, this author's note is officially longer than the chapter so I'm just going to stop here.**

**Remember kids, my name is Melinda, I'm twenty-two years old, and I have a baby shower to go to tomorrow!**

* * *

**Originally posted to FFN on 11/22/19.**


	29. I Am Not Afraid to Keep On Living

**So, last chapter before the Hiatus. Here we go...**

* * *

**Tuesday, January 31st, 2012**

Despite her best efforts, Lara was unable to fall asleep. She tossed and turned until her alarm went off, mind a wreck with worry. Honestly, Lara was questioning whether she should go into work. After all, she wouldn't be doing anyone any good if she was falling asleep on the job. At the same time, though, she wanted to know what was happening. Neither Bruce nor Pepper had texted her any updates, which only served to worry her more. She wanted to know if everyone was alright. Sure, the CDC had told Pepper that Tony, Steve, and Natasha were okay, but Lara wanted a little more confirmation than that.

She spent an extra hour in bed, trying to decide what to do. Eventually, she had to relent that she was too tired and gave up trying to convince herself otherwise. She took her phone off the charger and called in sick. Luckily, she had barely touched her allotted amount of sick days since she started at Stark Industries so there was no way she'd be penalized for it. She also sent texts to Tony, Bruce, and Pepper. In each one she just explained what was going on and asked for updates if they were available. Once that was done, she pulled her cat, Telemachus, close to her and closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would come to her.

It did, briefly. She got about twenty minutes of sleep before Telemachus decided that he was done with cuddles and jumped off the bed, waking her up. After that, sleep began to elude her again. Now realizing that she wasn't going to be able to sleep ever again, Lara decided to give up the ghost and get out of bed. She probably needed to check her blood sugar levels anyway.

Getting up out of bed, Lara turned the TV on to ABC Channel 7. As she expected, there was an extensive report about the events at Avengers Tower the previous day. Nothing new was reported except that Stark Industries was scheduled to give a statement to the media at eight AM. That caught her attention. She quickly glanced at her phone to see if Pepper texted her anything but found nothing. Lara sighed and forced herself to dismiss it as Pepper just being too busy to get back to her. Hopefully, that would be the case. The alternatives would just serve to keep her up for much longer.

After going through her normal morning routines of doing her insulin injection, having breakfast, and taking her medications, Lara turned her TV around to face her bed so that way if she managed to stay awake, she could watch the press conference. She adjusted the volume so that way it was loud enough so she could hear it from the bed, but not so loud that it would disturb her if she managed to fall asleep. Once that was set up, she got back into bed and shut her eyes, waiting for either Stark Industries to make their statement or for her brain to finally let her fall asleep.

Unfortunately, the former ended up happening first. The voice of anchor Rosaleen Abraham came over the speakers, notifying viewers that their regularly scheduled programing was being interrupted for a "breaking news alert." Lara took that as her signal to sit up and pay attention to the screen.

The first image she saw as she tried to bring the world into focus was an empty podium in what she recognized as the main lobby of Avengers Tower. For the first minute or two of the broadcasts, the camera held on the image of the podium while Abraham assured viewers that the press conference would begin momentarily. It felt like longer than a moment had passed before there was finally activity onscreen.

The camera panned to show Pepper, Freeman, Cabe, and a few others stepping onto the platform which the podium stood on. They took seats just to the right of the podium while a representative from S.H.I.E.L.D. got behind it. Again, nothing was said that Lara didn't already know, so she took the moment to study the others.

Pepper sat up tall and straight, exuding nothing but calm confidence. Despite that, Lara could notice a few small details that most would not, like the fact that Pepper was wearing a bit more makeup than she usually did when she was on camera. Briefly, Lara wondered if Pepper had been able to get any sleep the night before or if she, too, had been kept awake by worry. Regardless, to the untrained observer, Pepper was the pinnacle of dignified composure. That was more than what could be said about one of the other members of the group.

Freeman looked like a nervous wreck. He sat in his chair with his legs set apart and his hands clasped together. His gaze was directed down at the ground and Lara could have sworn she saw beads of sweat running down his bald head. While she might not be a PR "expert," she also wasn't an idiot. She knew that was only serving to make Stark Industries – and by extension, the Avengers – look bad. She was relieved when the camera zoomed in to get a tighter shot on the S.H.I.E.L.D. representative, thereby taking Freeman out of the frame. Now, the public wouldn't have to bear witness to that embarrassment.

…Or so she thought. The S.H.I.E.L.D. representative announced that the next person to speak would be Mr. Duane Freeman, Head of Public Relations for Stark Industries. Lara braced herself, hoping against hope that he would at least be slightly more composed than he was minutes before. Again, that isn't what happened. If anything, Freeman looked worse as he stepped up to the podium and leaned into the microphone.

"Good morning ladies, gentlemen, and assorted members of the press," he said. "Before I hand over the microphone to Miss Potts, I have an announcement I'd like to make."

Pepper was still visible in the corner of the screen. Instantly Lara could see her eyes slightly narrow, almost as if in suspicion. Whatever Freeman had to announce, it wasn't pre-planned. Lara took a deep breath and held it.

_Please don't shoot us in the face,_ she thought. _Please don't shoot us in the face. Please don't shoot us in the face._

"I would like to announce my resignation as Head of Public Relations for Stark Industries." Freeman paused as if waiting for the press' reaction. However, they didn't have any reaction. In fact, it was probably news to all of them that Stark Industries even had a Head of Public Relations, given Tony's notorious spontaneity. ("I am Iron Man," anyone?)

Lara slowly let out that breath she'd been holding. Her immediate assumption was that Pepper had fired him. That was good. Though, why he had to make such a scene out of it was a mystery to her. That was, until Freeman started to speak again.

"It is with a hung head and a heavy heart that I make this announcement," he said. "The past twenty years I have spent as a loyal employee of Stark Industries have been some of the best of my life. However, despite my dedication, I find that I can no longer stand by the actions of this company or by the actions of its owner, Mr. Anthony Stark."

Lara could see red flags going up in Pepper's eyes. She turned to her left and as far as Lara could tell, started signaling to someone offscreen; likely Happy or Cabe or even Agent Morse. She didn't need to see what she was signaling to get the message, though. It was clear. They needed to get him offstage before he said something damaging. That was easier said than done.

"On September 4th, 2011, Mr. Stark – along with the Avengers – committed some of the most egregious acts against mankind. They put an end to us fated day of reckoning and in the process, thousands were injured, and countless lives were lost. The Avengers have not admitted any wrongdoing in their actions that day, nor have they taken responsibility for any of the casualties incurred. It is for this reason that I…"

Cabe ran into the shot, going right up to Freeman and whispering what Lara could only assume to be threats. Lara squeezed her eyes shut and almost covered her ears. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear what came next.

"Uh," Freeman's voice came out slowly. "I am being advised by Miss Cabe here to get off the stage before I'm forced off, so I'm just going to go ahead and do that. Taking over the microphone from me will be Stark Industries CEO, Miss Virginia Potts. Uh, Miss Potts."

Freeman then slowly stepped away from the podium and presumably off stage with Cabe closely following him. Pepper stepped into shot seconds later, still the epitome of composure. She began to speak, but honestly Lara barely payed attention to what she had to say. Instead, she was getting up out of bed and began to search for clothes to wear. As much as she wanted to sleep, it was clear that Pepper was going to need help handling this crisis.

* * *

By the time they had gotten back on the road, rush hour had started. The highways were crowded with people who all needed to get to New York ASAP. As time passed, the sky started to lighten up making everything become more visible, including the depressive air that hung around the car.

Shortly after Steve had called for someone to come and arrest Subarian, an agent came, and the doctor was quickly carted off to custody. Once he was out of sight, Steve turned his attention to Natasha. She was still staring at the same spot on the floor. Though she wasn't looking up at Steve, he took notice of the way her eyes twitched rapidly back and forth, as if trying to process something. Steve tried to get her attention by saying her name, but she ignored him completely and took off down the hall. Steve didn't even try to follow her out. He didn't see her again until he got into the car, this time knowing better than to try to talk to her.

That didn't stop Steve's concern, though. For the first hour, Natasha sat staring out the window at the blackness of the night. Steve kept wanting to say something, but knew it was pointless to try to.

About a half hour into the drive, Hill announced that she had announced that she had an update on Clint. Natasha covered her ears and leaned forward until her head was almost touching her legs. Steve was initially alarmed, but when Hill sighed, he got the feeling that she was expecting this response. Despite that, she went ahead and shared the information anyway.

Clint was stable for the most part, however, his blood pressure was dropping. He wasn't quite in the danger zone yet, but he would be if the doctors didn't get it under control soon. Hill had relayed the information that Subarian had given them and apparently the doctor had sounded more hopeful about Clint's prognosis than Subarian had been. Steve hoped he was right about that and wasn't just futilely keeping their hopes up.

A few minutes after Hill had finished speaking, Natasha lifted her head and pulled her hands away from her ears. Slowly, she turned to Steve and looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. It was clear she was fearing the worst and was trusting him to break it to her gently. Luckily, Steve could oblige.

"He's still alive, but his blood pressure is starting to drop." Natasha nodded slowly.

"Thank you," she whispered. Steve gave a small nod and Natasha let things lapse into silence. She still didn't want to be pushed to talk, so Steve let her be.

When the sky started to lighten up, Natasha's phone buzzed. She picked it up, texted a reply, and within a few minutes, it buzzed again. It continued like that the rest of the way into the city. Steve didn't ask who she was texting, but he did hope that whoever it was, she was talking about what just happened because she needed to talk about it with somebody.

Whether it was or not, it seemed to be helping. As the text conversation continued, Natasha seemed get better. She sat up straighter and a weight seemed to be coming off her shoulders. She regained a sense of composure and overall just seemed to be in a better head space. However, it wasn't until they were coming out of the Lincoln Tunnel that she spoke up again.

"Where are we going?" Hill looked up at her through the rearview mirror.

"We're headed back to Avengers Tower," she said. "The CDC cleared it, so it's safe to go back inside."

"I want to go see Clint." Hill raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure about that?" Natasha nodded.

"I am." Hill's eyes seemed to be scrutinizing her for a moment longer before she lowered her gaze, turning to the driver.

"Take us to Mount Sinai Hospital," she said. "The main building on Madison Avenue." The driver complied without a word. Steve looked back at Natasha.

_I hope she can handle it._

* * *

Surprise of all surprised, Tony found something worse than being treated at the hospital; waiting in the hospital waiting room. It was all the normal horribleness of being in the hospital with the added benefit of not actually being sick. Also, as disturbing were the hard-plastic chairs and outdated issues of _People Magazine_. The newest issue he could find looked to be from June of 2006 and the only reason he could tell was because the cover had a photo of him kissing a topless woman at his birthday party. The picture in question had caused his friend with benefits at the time to break into the SI employee parking garage and keyed his car. (Although he completely deserved it, Tony couldn't help but think he got off easy. That was one of the better break ups he'd ever experienced.) He hoped the hospital wouldn't mind if he ripped off the cover of that magazine, along with the article that accompanied the photo.

The worst part about it, though, was that he couldn't find out any information about Barton. Hospital staff couldn't release anything to him because he wasn't next of kin. He tried telling them that he was (sort of) Barton's boss, but that was too loose of a connection for them. He tried to tell them that he was Barton's long-lost Siamese twin, but they didn't believe him. Finally, he resorted to telling them that he was "going to marry that man" (a la Sandra Bullock in _While You Were Sleeping_) but at that point they told him to sit down before they called security. Not needing to be banned from yet another hospital, Tony complied.

So, he had no idea what was going on anymore. For all he knew, Barton could be dead by now. He kept glancing down the hall he had come from, hoping that he would see Dr. Smith or at least a nurse that he recognized coming down the hall to give him an update, but he had no such luck. Eventually, he got impatient and got up. If he was going to be forced to sit around and wait for information that would probably never come, he might as well do it on a full stomach.

To get to the cafeteria from the waiting room he was at, Tony had to go out to the front area and go around to the other side of the building. It seemed like a pain and he was sure there was a faster way, but he was too tired and far too hungry to tolerate even potentially getting lost, so he made the wise decision to just follow the directions given to him by the nurse earlier. It was a good thing he did, too, because otherwise he probably would have missed Steve.

Tony was just about to pass the front entry way when he spotted him. At first, he thought he was just seeing things and it wasn't really Steve, but on a second glance he was sure it was him. Tony had the fluttering feeling of his hear leaping out of his chest and up into the sky. Warmth flooded the empty space when he realized that Steve was wearing the new suit, he designed for him (with Steve's input.) If Tony had no sense at all, he'd run right up to Steve and start trying to take it off him. Sadly, he was painfully aware of the fact that they had agreed to keep their relationship private for now, so once again he had to just settle for fantasies.

Steve didn't see him, though. In fact, he had his back to Tony while he held open the giant glass door. Steve had his gaze on Commander Hill who was climbing who was climbing out of a black SUV that was pulled up to the curb. The back door of the SUV was still open wide, likely for a third person who was taking their sweet time getting out of the car. Steve and Hill were talking back and forth and neither had even glanced in the direction of the windows. So, they didn't know that Tony was standing there.

Once the surprise had worn off, a surge of excitement raced through him. Again, Tony had enough sense not to do anything that could possibly expose their relationship, but he wasn't going to let his boyfriend go without a proper hello. In seconds, he made it to the second set of double doors and pushed them open with a flourish.

"Steve!" His head whipped around and as soon as he made eye contact with Tony, he broke out a smile. It was like watching the sky light up after a particularly dark night; it radiated a sort of calm amazement that made Tony's heart melt. Reflecting that smile with one of his own.

The hug didn't last long for previously stated reasons, but Tony made sure to savor every second. Steve pulled back slowly and gently, giving Tony's bicep a rup.

"Hi," Tony said.

"Hey," Steve said back. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"You too," Tony's smile faltered. "Barton's not, though." Steve's face sank into concern.

"Have you heard anything?" Tony shook his head.

"No," he said. "I'm not next of kin, so they couldn't tell me anything, but the last time I saw him… He looked bad Steve."

"How bad?" he asked.

"**Bad**," Tony emphasized. "He looked like he was on death's doorstep."

"Good thing he won't be there for long." Tony turned his head just in time to catch a glimpse of a whoosh of red and black blowing into the hospital at a rapid pace. Hill futilely tried to chase after her, screaming "Agent Romanoff, come back here right now," but it was clear that Romanoff wasn't going to stop for anything or anyone. She was out of sight within seconds.

Tony looked back at Steve. When their eyes met, he saw something in Steve's eyes that he hadn't before; hurt and disappointment and (amazingly) Tony knew right away that it wasn't directed at him. Tony's mouth formed a tight line.

"What happened?"

Steve sighed and put a hand on his shoulder, gently leading him back inside the building.

* * *

Shortly after the breathing tube was inserted down his throat, Clint began to find it difficult to keep his eyes open. They just kept drifting closed and it got harder and harder to force them to open again. It was like tiny weights had been hooked into his eyelids. Eventually, he just gave up the fight and let his eyes stay closed. Nothing interesting was happening anyway.

Clint didn't know if he fell asleep or not. All he knew was darkness. He did, however, feel a sudden burst of anxiety, the kind that usually accompanied a nightmare. The strange thing was, that even if he was asleep, he wasn't dreaming, so the sudden burst of anxiety was unexplained. That was, until Clint started thinking more deeply about it.

_Am I dead?_ he thought. _Did I just feel myself die?_

It was a reasonable question to ask. He had never died before. He's come close to death plenty of times, but thankfully he had a thirty-four-year streak of not dying, so he didn't know for sure what it felt like. Besides, it wasn't like absence of sensory input was helping. Sure, he could still kind of hear the ventilator taking in air and expelling it for him, but it was such a repetitive noise that he couldn't be sure that it was there. For all he knew it was just a creation of his mind; his cold, dead mind.

Then the inevitable thought of _what if I'm a zombie,_ came to mind, along with _what if my consciousness is trapped in my body, _and, _what if I'm just reliving the last few moments of my life on a loop for all eternity_. He couldn't know for sure and those thoughts spun around in his head, churning up fear and anxiety from the deepest, darkest parts of his mind – parts he only learned existed recently. It was disorienting and the longer it went on, the more lost he felt.

That was until a weight came bearing down on him. He felt tired. A part of Clint realized that he needed to be alive to feel tired, but for some reason that just didn't fully click. He just felt so tired and confused and just wanted to fade away into the darkness. The peaceful, peaceful darkness…

**_SLAM!_** Clint heard that clearly. The door in front of him flew open so hard, he was sure he could hear the hinges pop. A bunch of voices started shouting over each other. It was hard to make sense of what was being said, but he could clearly hear the words "Agent Romanoff" included somewhere in each sentence. Natasha seemed to ignore their protests as he heard her speak.

"Okay, I'm going to give the phone to him," she said. "Just remember he's on a ventilator, so he can't really respond back, alright?" She paused for a moment. "Alright, here you go."

Clint felt something cold and rectangular press up against his ear. (_Hey! I still have one of those!_) He tried to pry his eyes open to see what was going on, but they were still too heavy. After a few seconds of dead air, he heard a voice in his ear hesitantly speak up.

"Clint?" His heart soared. That was Laura's voice. "Clint, can you hear me? Crap! Wait, don't respond to that! Natasha told me about the ventilator. Don't talk. I'll just assume you're listening."

He heard Laura take a deep breath, as if to compose herself. If Clint were with her right then, he'd take her hand and give it a little squeeze to reassure her that she could say anything to him. Unfortunately, the thousands of miles between them made that impossible.

"Hi, honey," Laura let out a bit of a forced laugh. Obviously, she was trying to keep things light. "I heard you got sick. That's…" She let out a breath. "I can't even imagine that. I can't imagine what you're going through right now. Obviously, it's not pleasant…"

Laura paused again to recompose herself. While the lull dragged on, Clint could hear Natasha arguing with someone. By the voice, he would guess it was Dr. Wayne. He could hear words like "unsafe" and "compromising yourself" being tossed around, but Nat remained steadfast. The only thing that mattered to Clint, though, was that she kept holding the phone up to his ear. He didn't want to miss a single word Laura said.

"I didn't tell the kids you were coming," she said once she was calm again. "I wanted it to be a surprise, especially since you were going to bring the dog. I just couldn't wait to see their faces light up when they saw you… The kids are doing fine, by the way. It's sloppy joe day in the cafeteria at school, so Conner's excited, and the teacher at Leah's daycare let it slip that they're going to be finger painting today, so you should be getting yet another crudely painted picture of a butterfly while I get a paint-stained toddler to clean up."

If the ventilator wasn't obstructing his mouth, Clint would have smiled. God, he just wished he could be with them right now. His heart ached, he wanted it so bad.

"They're okay, though," Laura said. "We're all okay, so don't you worry about us. You need to focus on fighting this." He heard her sniffle. "Fight this, Clint. For the kids… For me… Please, just fight this!"

The words hit Clint's heart hard. She was right. He needed to put all his energy into fighting this. He couldn't let this virus take him down, not without putting up a fight first.

Again, he tried opening his eyes, this time putting all his concentration into it. Slowly, a crack began to form, and light seeped through. With a little more effort, it got wider, and the world came into focus. Given that he was still being forced to lay on his back, the only things he could see looking straight-on were the blacklights above him. However, if he strained his gaze over to the corner of his eye, he could see the top of Natasha's redhead very clearly. Slowly she moved so that way she was standing over him, giving him a clear view of her face.

"You're going to be fine," she mouthed, or maybe whispered. Either way, he knew exactly how to respond. He made an "O" shape with his index finger and thumb, sticking the other three fingers out straight.

"Okay."

* * *

**Alright, I'm dizzy because my mom decided today would be a good day to re-stain all the doors in the house. She could have easily done it a month ago when it wasn't freezing out and we could actually open the windows to let all the fumes out or waited until Spring, but no, it has to be done today. That being said, I feel like I'm going to faint so if this author's note barely makes any coherent sense, you know why.**

**Once again, I want to stress that I don't intend for this break to be permanent. If I don't ever post again, assume I'm either dead or locked in Onision's basement. I will still be writing the entire time. I just want to get ahead of myself so I can be able to update regularly. I hope you all bear with me on this. I've already started Chapter Thirty if that makes anyone feel better and I hope to get as many chapters as I can under my belt before I return.**

**Remember kids, search "onision chris hansen" on YouTube. Seriously, this guy's behavior is out of control and I honestly believe more people should be aware of him and his spouse, Cool Guy Kai. I don't want any more children to fall victim to their manipulation and the only way to ensure that is to make more adults aware of what they're doing. Look out for all the children in your life, please.**

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**Originally posted on 12/2/19. **


	30. Bad Decisions, That's Alright

**Wow. Well, this certainly isn't the news I was expecting to come back to...**

* * *

**Tuesday, January 31st, 2012**

Lara wasn't sure what she was expecting to find when she arrived at Avengers Tower, but it certainly wasn't this amount of chaos. Several groups had meshed and converged on the place. First, there was the media. Although the press conference had ended quite a while ago, they were still hanging around, likely hoping to corner either Tony Stark or one of the Avengers into an interview as they walked in. Similarly, there were the gawkers. They were the people who hung around the Tower hoping to have an encounter with a hero. There were always gawkers but given the excitement of the past couple of days, there was a much higher ratio of them.

Next there were the people who were supposed to be there. I.e. Stark Industries employees, restaurant and hotel staff, people who worked in the other offices in the building, etc. Some of them would sometimes cross over into gawker territory, but today they couldn't be bothered. The large amount of people just standing around created the nuisance for them. They had to fight to get to the elevators and exits. The last thing they wanted was for one of the Avengers to walk in. All it would do would be to add to the chaos and probably cause a stampede.

Finally, there was the Peoples Unity Church. They, as usual, had parked themselves in the middle of the lobby and were refusing to leave. The police, SI security, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had taken notice of this activity right away and had surrounded the group. However, instead of chanting sermons and accosting passersby, the members of the church were rather calm. They sat facing outwards in a circle that was about forty people in circumference. They all had their arms linked and anytime an authority figure asked them to move, they'd just say "no," not bothering to follow it up with anything else. Since they weren't actively attacking anyone, officers and agents for all the agencies were hesitant to try to physically engage with them. After all, they were having trouble controlling the gathered crowd while monitoring the Peoples Unity Church. They didn't need to add a violent confrontation on to that mess.

Boy, it was a mess. It was usually pretty easy to get to the elevators from the Grand Central Terminal entrance. However, the flow of the crowd was so thick that Lara had trouble breaking away from it. She was sure that she had shoved more people than was probably necessary and stepped on quite a few people's toes. She didn't apologize for it, though. After all, she wasn't the one who had turned the lobby into a mosh pit.

The stream of people zig-zagged around the room. It was almost as if no one knew where they were going or what they were supposed to be doing. As a result, Lara ended up getting pushed closer to the middle of the room, where the Peoples Unity Church had gathered. No matter how much she tried to resist, she ended up getting pushed further and further until she was close enough to catch a glimpse of one of the people sitting in the circle and recognize him. How could she not? She was married to him for three years.

"Dante?"

He immediately looked at her. He tried to get up, but the two people sitting next to him refused to unlink their arms and thus kept him down. For one, Lara found herself grateful for the Peoples Unity Church. Dante gave her a sort of apologetic look.

"I can't talk now. Can you wait up?" Lara's mouth dropped.

"Are you kidding me?" she said. "No!"

"Why not?" The utter confusion on Dante's face only served to fuel Lara's anger.

"You know what?" she said. "I'll tell you why in court." She then turned on her heel and started ripping through the crowd, ignoring it's current completely. Even though Dante was literally being held down by the Peoples Unity Church, his voice still managed to follow her.

"Court?" he questioned. "What did I do? Hey! I'm talking to you! Hey!"

The elevator doors couldn't close fast enough. First, she needed to make sure Pepper had control of the situation. Then she needed to talk to Cabe about the Dante situation. Already, she could feel a headache throbbing behind her eye sockets.

* * *

Going back to the waiting area he had occupied before, Tony listened as Steve explained all of what happened over the past few hours and his concerns for Romanoff. Honestly, Tony was left in a little bit of a state of disbelief. The idea of Romanoff losing her cool just seemed impossible. He couldn't even create a clear image of that in his mind. She fought a tantrum-ing Norse God and dealt with aliens invading the streets of New York without barely batting an eye. The idea of her being scared just sounded ludicrous. At least it would be if Steve didn't mention one detail.

"I get that she's upset," Steve said. "I would be, too, if it were you, but I feel like she just took it too far. I get that she and Barton are as close as family and I get that she just lost Coulson, but it doesn't mean you respond like that."

"Actually, it does." Steve gave Tony a look. "I'm serious. When someone hurts someone you love, you want to hurt them back, and the fact that she just lost Coulson probably added fuel to the fire. The threat of not having any family anymore is scary to some people, and that's what Natasha was being threatened with."

"I **get** that," Steve said. "I just said that I got it, but I still think she could've been a little more controlled than she was."

"A lot of time control isn't an option," Tony said. "If the person responsible for my parents' deaths were in this room right now, do you think I'd be able to take it? No, of course not. I'd beat Howard back to death in a heartbeat."

"Barton's not dead," Steve pointed out.

"Yet," Tony added.

"He could still make a recovery," Steve said.

"Yeah, he could, but I wouldn't hold my breath for it." Tony looked down at the ground. They still hadn't heard from any doctors or nurses about Barton's condition, nor had Romanoff or Hill returned from wherever in the hospital they had disappeared to (which was likely the quarantine area.) The longer time dragged on without any news, the more anxious Tony felt. He didn't understand why. It's not like he was Barton's best friend or anything, but he still felt bad for him. He didn't deserve to die this way. No one did.

Slowly, Tony felt Steve's hand come down on top of his. Steve gently ran a thumb over the back of Tony's hand as he looked up. When their eyes met, all Tony could see was a reassuring warmth emanating from those blue-green irises.

"He's going to be okay." The way Steve said that almost made Tony believe him. Keyword: **almost**. Tony felt a frown tug at his lips.

"You don't know that," Tony said. "You can't know that. You didn't see the way he looked at all." Steve moved his hand so that way his and Tony's fingers were more firmly interlocked and gave it a squeeze.

"You're right," he said. "I don't, but I do know that Barton's a lot tougher than we probably give him credit for. A man who can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with gods and monsters would have no trouble getting over a simple bug." Tony snorted in disbelief.

"It's not that simple," he said.

"It is." Steve moved his hand to rest gently on Tony's shoulder. "Trust me."

He could and he did trust Steve. It felt almost impossible not to. The way he said things with so much conviction always made people want to believe him, even if it was something impossible like a non-enhanced human being able to survive against an incurable biological weapon. (Seriously, a snowball had a better chance in Hell.) The way Steve said it just made Tony want to trust it and believe in it. The way Steve was looking at him also helped. One look into Steve's eyes could always make the corners of Tony's lips rise into a smile. It was an amazing feeling.

It didn't last, though. For half a second, Steve's eyes drifted away from Tony's and that was all it took for the atmosphere to completely change.

"Hill."

Tony turned to look behind him while Steve stood up. Sure enough, Commander Hill was striding down the hallway, just as purposeful as ever. It was a safe bet that she was coming from the quarantine area. Tony started to stand as well, anxiety building in the pit of his stomach. He tried to determine by the way Hill carried herself whether the news was good or bad. However, it was useless. Hill was as stoic and calm as ever, with not a single feature betraying that image. She remained non-pulsed, even as she made eye contact with the two of them.

"Captain Rogers," she said as she stepped in front of them. "Mr. Stark, I'm surprised that you're still here." Tony frowned.

"Of course, we're still here, Commander," Steve said graciously. "Barton's a member of our team. We want to know that he's okay."

"You wouldn't happen to have any information to pass on about that, would you?" Hill sighed.

"He's stable," she said. "According to Dr. Wayne, he's slowly stopped deteriorating, but he hasn't been improving either. Only time will tell. He's not the one you should be worried about, though."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"It seems Agent Romanoff has decided to take Stark's place in quarantine," Hill said. "She ran in without a protective suit."

"What is she nuts?" Tony exclaimed automatically. Steve shut his eyes and let out a breath.

"No," he said. "She's just scared for her friend. He looked Hill in the eye. "It's not contagious at this point, right? She'll be fine?"

"We can't be sure that Subarian was telling the truth," Hill admitted. "If the virus is still active, though, I'd rate her chances as better than most."

"And we should take your word for that?" Tony questioned.

"She survived being exposed once," Hill said. "I'm sure she can survive it again." Tony wanted to point out how unlikely it was for a person's immune system to be able to fight of diseases as dangerous as Ebola and H5N1, but for the sake of everyone's sanity, he decided it would be best not to bring that up, especially right now.

"Let's hope you're right," Steve said.

"Both of you are free to go," Hill said. "You don't have to stick around here."

"What about Barton?" Tony asked.

"He's taken care of," Hill assured. "Dr. Wayne is continuing to monitor him along with Romanoff and we have doctors and agents monitoring the situation. If anything happens, we'll know."

"And you'll tell us, right?" Hill nodded.

"I'll keep you updated." Tony didn't feel he could trust that assurance, but that was probably the best he was going to get out of Hill, so he had to accept it."

"Thank you," Steve said. "For all of your help through this." Hill nodded.

"The Avengers is a valuable asset to S.H.I.E.L.D.," she said. "Even if we haven't gotten the chance to test you out properly yet, it's our duty to protect you."

"Still, thank you." For a second, Tony thought he saw the corners of Hill's lips rise a bit, but it must have been a trick of his imagination.

With not many more words being exchanged, Hill turned and went back the way she came, most likely to continue to monitor the situation with Barton and Romanoff. Since they had the go-ahead to leave, Steve and Tony started making their way back towards the main entrance of the hospital. Hill had informed them that the S.H.I.E.L.D. car that had brought her, Steve, and Romanoff to the hospital would be available to take them back to Avengers Tower, which was a relief considering that neither Steve nor Tony had their cell phones or exact change on them.

On the ride back, Tony forced himself to relax. Steve was okay. Barton and Romanoff were in safe hands. The bastards who did this had been arrested. There was nothing to worry about. He was safe and holding on tight to his boyfriend's hand. Nothing was wrong.

* * *

The world was ending again. At least, that was the impression Tony got when he saw the sheer number of cop cars and news vans surrounding the Tower. His eyes immediately went up to the sky, scanning it carefully for portals with sky-whales and Chitauri soldiers spilling out of it. Thankfully, nothing of the sort happened, but that didn't quell any of the alarm that was building up inside Tony.

Given the large media presence, Tony instructed the S.H.I.E.L.D. driver to pull into the parking garage underneath the Tower, rather than dropping them off out front. They passed dozens of flashing lights and reporters with microphones screamed at them as they ran at the car, but once they were past the security gate, there was no longer anyone on their tail. Both Steve and Tony thanked the S.H.I.E.L.D. driver as they got out of the car, and Tony felt a little guilty that he couldn't tip the guy or even at least reimburse him for the fee he was going to have to pay to leave the parking garage. However, it couldn't compare to the guilt he was feeling for leaving his cellphone on the charger in his room.

As he and Steve got in the elevator, Tony couldn't help but wonder what the hell happened. Obviously, the Avengers had been attacked. That was enough to warrant the police and media presence, but Tony had a feeling something else was going on; something bad. He just hoped he hadn't left Pepper in a bad position as he hit the button for the forty-fourth floor.

Since Tony knew the override codes for the elevator, he could program it to take them up to Stark Industries' executive floor without making any other stops. The doors opened and Tony almost blasted out of the elevator before he remembered that he still had Steve with him. He put a hand on the door to keep it from closing before turning back to Steve.

"The override is still active," Tony said. "If you hit the button for the penthouse, it'll take you there. When you get up there, have JARVIS stop the elevator and get your key. If you put it in the keyhole like normal, it'll turn off the override and no one will be able to get up there."

"What about you?" Steve asked.

"I have the override code," Tony dismissed. "I'll be fine."

"No," Steve said. "Will you be alright going in there on your own?" Tony's eyebrows knitted together.

"Of course, I'll be alright," he said. "I do this all the time."

"You sure?" Steve asked. "Because I can go with you if you're not okay." Tony felt his cheeks warm and his lips curve up at the sentiment.

"I appreciate that," Tony said. "But I'll be fine. I just need to talk to Pepper really quick, then I'll be right up, okay?" Steve nodded.

"Alright," he said. "But can I have a kiss before you go?" Tony smirked.

"Do you even need to ask?" Tony turned around so he was fully facing Steve and their lips collided within moments. The kiss was very chaste, but both were very reluctant to pull away, especially since this was the first kiss they'd had in almost a week. However, like all good things, it had to come to an end – this time in a comedic way as the elevator doors began to close on Tony, who had taken his arms away from the door to wrap them around Steve's shoulders. Tony let out a little yelp as he pulled back and pushed the door open again.

"Are you okay?" Tony wasn't sure if he should be proud that Steve sounded so breathless, but either way, he nodded.

"I'm fine," he assured. "We probably shouldn't try that again." Steve snorted.

"Too bad," he said. "That was a good time." Tony smiled.

"I can give you an even better time," he said. "But first I have to take care of this." Steve nodded in understanding.

"Alright," he said. "I'll see you in a bit."

"See you in a bit," Tony promised before taking his hand off the door and turning in the direction of Pepper's office. A pang of sadness rippled through his chest as he heard the elevator doors slide closed and he had to remind himself that it would be a few moments at best. He was probably worrying too much. Nothing would be wrong, and he would be able to go back to Steve in no time.

Oh, how wrong he was.

The door to Pepper's office was open and her assistant wasn't at his desk, so Tony took that as an invitation to walk right in. His suspicions were immediately proven right as several people had gathered in the room including Happy, Cabe, Pepper's assistant, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent (judging by the eagle insignia on the blonde woman's uniform), a cop, a half-dead homeless woman sprawled out an unconscious on one of the couches, and of course, Pepper herself. She was sitting at her desk with her eyes shut and was rubbing her temples. From the scene, Tony could only guess at what was happening.

"Holy shit," he said. "I know homelessness is a problem, but we don't solve it by running them over." All eyes turned towards him. Relief came across Pepper and Happy's faces.

"Tony," Pepper said as she stood up and rounded her desk. The two of them shared a brief hug. "You're alright?" she asked as she pulled back.

"I'm fine," he assured. "You're not."

Pepper looked down and let out a long breath. Before she could find the right words to explain, Cabe jumped in to help her out.

"Freeman got in front of the press and tried to defame you and the other Avengers," she said. "I got him offstage before he could do anything irreparable, but I think it's safe to say we still took a hit."

"Are you serious?" Tony questioned. Pepper slowly nodded.

"I don't know what happened," she said. "I helped him plan out that press conference. I had no indication or any clue that he was even going to try something as ridiculous as going off like that."

"Back up," Tony said. "When did this happen? What press conference?"

"The one this morning," Pepper said. "Didn't you see it?"

"Did I see the press conference while I waited in quarantine to find out if I was dying again or not?" Tony asked. "No, Pepper, I did not."

"Tony," she said, bringing a hand to her forehead. "This is serious."

"Yes," Tony said. "And I can see that everyone in this room is taking it seriously, especially _Sleeping Beauty_ over here." As he gestured over to the woman lying across the couch, a groan escaped her lips.

"I called in sick," Lara said. "Don't tell me how to live my life."

"You have to be alive to have a life," Tony pointed out. Lara glared at him as she forced herself to sit up.

"Shut up," she grumbled.

"Never," Tony said before becoming slightly concerned. "Wait, why are you here if you're sick?"

"I didn't sleep last night," she explained. "I couldn't stop worrying and it kept me up."

"Well, I'm alive," Tony said. "No need to worry about party plans. You can go ahead and cancel the parade." Lara rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," she said. "I'm just here feeling guilty about the fact that I didn't stay with Pepper and all that time I spent not sleeping could have been spent keeping an eye on Freeman."

"That again?" Pepper said. "How many times do I need to tell you that you're not responsible for this?"

"I had a bad feeling, Pepper," Lara said. "I should have listened to it and stayed with you."

"And what exactly would that have changed?" Lara frowned.

"I might have caught something that you missed," she said, but her defense came off weaker than it already was as a yawn forced its way-out mid-sentence.

"Trust me, you wouldn't have." Tony turned his attention to the blonde S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. "You were just about to pass out when you left last night. Pepper and I were still fairly alert when you left and neither of us noticed anything suspicious with Freeman."

"It's still my fault," Lara muttered.

"Quit blaming yourself, or you're fired." Lara shot Tony a look but didn't protest further. Tony looked back at Pepper. "How far did he go?"

"Not that far," she said. "Like Cabe said, she pulled him offstage before he could do any serious damage."

"You fired him?"

"Yes."

"And you had him arrested?"

"No." Pepper crinkled her nose. "Why would he be arrested?"

"Well, there's a huge police presence here," Tony said. "One can only assume…"

"Other than some minor slander – which can be taken up in civil court – Mr. Freeman hasn't committed any crime," the cop said. "We have no cause to arrest him. We're here because of the Peoples Unity Church." Tony brought the palm of his hand to his face.

"Oh God," he said. "What did they do now?"

"They've been protesting in the lobby since just after the press conference," Cabe said. "They've been sitting out there and have been refusing to move." Tony let out a sigh of exasperation.

"Great," he said. "Just… Great."

"For the most part, we've managed to break up the protest and bring most of the people involved into custody," the cop said. "However, other than that one guy who violated a restraining order, we can't charge anyone with anything worse than criminal trespass."

"Yes," Tony said. "Charge them, please. I'm sick of this."

"Just pressing charges against them won't make them stop," Cabe said.

"I know," Tony said. "But actions need to have consequences. Charge them."

"Yes, sir," the cop then nodded and left, likely to pass the request on to his superiors. Tony looked around the room.

"Anything else I need to know?" he asked.

"Yeah," Cabe said. "You look terrible. Go get some rest."

"Are you sure I'm the one you should be saying that to?" Tony gestured to Lara, who looked close to passing out again; barely even acknowledging what was going on around her.

"Oh, she's clearly exhausted," Cabe said. "But so are you. When was the last time you slept?"

"At night," Tony responded.

"Last night?" Cabe questioned. "The night before?" Tony still didn't answer her. Pepper gave him a concerned look.

"Can you even remember the last time you slept?" Tony frowned.

"No," he begrudgingly admitted. Pepper sighed.

"Go upstairs," she said. "Get to bed. I've got things handled here."

"I think it's better if I…"

"Tony." He stopped as soon as he caught sight of the stern expression on Pepper's face. "Don't. Go to bed."

He sighed, fully knowing there was no way he was going to win this argument. Besides, he already promised Steve that he'd be up in a few minutes and honestly, he'd rather cuddle with his boyfriend than try to handle this catastrophe.

"Alright," he said to Pepper before turning to Happy. "Can you take her to one of the guest rooms?" He gestured to Lara. "I doubt she can get herself home like this."

Happy nodded before moving to shake Lara's shoulder. She was startled back into alertness but didn't lash out, which was both a good thing and a testimony to how tired she really was. She allowed Happy to help her stand up but refused any assistance outside of that and let Tony lead the way out the door. Happy followed as well, likely to make sure Lara didn't pass out on the way to the elevator. Luckily, the movement was enough to keep her conscious until they got inside the elevator.

Tony didn't need to enter the override code again as Happy had his key. It took a few moments for the elevator to reach the penthouse as it was ten floors above them. In those few moments, Lara managed to slump against the wall and fall asleep. When it stopped, Happy had to lift her into a fireman's carry while Tony led them to the first-floor guest room. He held the door open for Happy as he carried Lara inside and placed her down on the bed. She didn't stir and both Happy and Tony were careful to be as quiet as possible as they left the room and shut the door.

After that, not much happened. Tony and Happy chatted for a bit before Happy had to go back downstairs. They said their goodbyes before Tony headed for the local elevator. Briefly, he considered checking to see if Bruce was around before deciding against it. He didn't want to keep Steve waiting any longer, even if going to Steve also meant falling into the cold, cruel clutches of sleep. For Steve, he would face anything. So, he hit the button for his and Steve's apartment and waited for the elevator to come to a stop.

* * *

**So for those of you who don't know (and if that is the case, I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you) the actor who portrayed T'Challa/the Black Panther, Chadwick Boseman, passed away of colon cancer last Friday, August 28th, 2020. I had no idea he was sick, and it sounds like not a lot of other people did either. It's heartbreaking that he passed away so young - at the age of 43 - and now I certainly know I won't be able to watch _Endgame_ without crying ever again. I mean, Tony and Natasha's deaths were sad, but at least Robert Downey Jr. and Scarlett Johansson are still alive. Now that we know that's the last time we'll see Chadwick as T'Challa ever again... Oooff! That hurts my heart! I also learned following his death that he was the guy who played Jackie Robinson in the movie _42_, and I remember thinking to myself while I was watching it "Damn, this guy is good! I hope I see him in other things someday!" Little did I know, I did. My heart goes out to his family and I wish them all the best in this difficult time. Rest in power, Chadwick. You deserve it.**

**Now, I should probably get on to why it took me so long to put out this chapter. The most simple explanation is, well, life happened. You'd think because I'm an unemployed twenty-three-year-old living off disability benefits, I'd have all the time in the world to write. I wouldn't blame you. I thought that, too. However, that just isn't the case. **

**Let's start with the pandemic because it's kind of the elephant in the room. To be clear, I wrote and posted that storyline with Clint getting infected months before the Coronavirus even first popped up. I had no idea this was going to happen and if it makes you uncomfortable to read those chapters again, I don't blame you. I'm a little uncomfortable reading those chapters myself. (Though my discomfort centers around the fact that I'm pretty sure now I got a lot of things wrong about quarantine and isolation, but I'm not a medical professional, so that was bound to happen.) My mental health - like so many others' - took a nosedive after the pandemic started and it's been really hard to motivate myself to even get out of bed, nevermind write. My physical health also hasn't been good. I haven't gotten the virus yet, but I've had other health issues to deal with and it's been a little hard to get in to see an actual doctor since this crisis started. So, yeah, that's been impeding my ability to write, too. I know, this is all excuses, but to be fair I have up to chapter forty-seven completed and you are going to have two solid months of uninterrupted posting, so really it's not that bad.**

**Yes, you heard me right. I have two months' worth of chapters guaranteed ready to go. I have all of the little dates that are in one way or another important to me covered. However, I should note that I'm not going to try to post in November or December because even with the pandemic, those are going to be busy times for me, so just stay tuned and hopefully I'll have a return date for you all before I have to disappear into the aether again. Apologies for the long note. It's just been a long time and I've missed posting so much! I hope you all are still enjoying this story and please comment, review, kudos, fave, and follow this story if you do!**

**Special thanks to mfaerie32, Bookdragon777, jessica19951, and SavageAngel7 on FFN for all the support, and sweet_as_suga and babystark on AO3 as well.**

**Remember kids, long live the king. You will always be in our hearts, Chadwick Boseman.**

* * *

**Originally posted to FFN on 9/1/20.**


	31. Temptation

**Happy Labor Day to everyone in the US! I hope you at least have some way to celebrate considering everything that's going on.**

* * *

**Tuesday, January 31st, 2012**

Tony's chest tightened. He tried to inhale but found that he couldn't. There was no air to breathe anyway. He was trapped in a vacuum.

Images flashed through Tony's mind at a rapid rate. Some flashed by so fast he couldn't make out the details. Others he could see clearly. There were the bright orange glares of explosions; the light slowly fading out of Yinsin's eyes; Pepper's face contorted unnaturally as she cried out in pain… Then there was Steve's voice coming over the comms, sadly saying the accursed words; "Tony, you know that's a one-way trip."

It was a one-way trip. It still is. He kept thinking he escaped; that he fell back through the portal and lived happily ever after with his little boyfriend, but he never did. He was still there, deep in space watching the missile detonate, taking out the Chitauri ship. He was watching the last few moments of his life – soundtracked to a song that once soothed him in childhood, but now only caused him heartbreak.

_"Szomorú vasárnap száz fehér virággal_

_Vártalak kedvesem templomi imával_

_Almokat kergetö vasárnap délelött_

_Bánatom hintaya nélküled visszajölt"_

* * *

Tony was sitting upright before he even fully woke up. He panted hard and his eyes darted around the room. His panic increases as he failed to recognize his surroundings. The dark blue walls and the paintings hanging on them were unfamiliar and started closing in on him. That was until he looked down to his left and saw Steve peacefully asleep in the bed beside him. It was only then that Tony had the presence of mind to try to relax.

He leaned back against the headboard and shut his eyes; his only focus was on breathing. He reminded himself that he and Steve were safe and so was everyone else. (Well, with the possible exceptions of Barton and Romanoff.) No invasions were happening, and the world was going to spin on as normal.

Except nothing was normal. None of it was normal. What he saw and what he experienced was beyond the realm of comprehension. It wasn't real, yet it was all too real at the same time. He couldn't get it out of his mind; out of his thoughts; out of his being. This was part of who Tony was now and honestly, he didn't think he could accept it. The thought of being like this forever twisted his stomach so much that he thought he was going to vomit.

Immediately, Tony was on his feet and racing into the bathroom. By the time he got there, though, the feeling had passed. For a few moments, Tony stood in the middle of the room, shaking. He kept waiting for the nausea to return, but it didn't. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked around the room and slowly lowered himself to the floor.

The hardwood barely squeaked as Tony sat down. It was top-quality and felt nice and smooth with all the layers of lacquer that covered it. Looking around, Tony couldn't help but be amazed at what a good job both Steve and Pepper had done. It wasn't just the bathroom; the entire apartment looked amazing and it was all thanks to Steve's designs and Pepper's attention to detail. For half a second, it took his mind off the nightmare. It was nice, but it was only for half a second.

In the next half of the second, the anxiety returned full force. His eyes went to the sink automatically and he jumped forwards, hoping to seek out the flask he kept in the cabinet, but he stopped himself. The memories of withdrawal pains were too fresh. He didn't want to go through that again. Besides, Pepper had already taken care of that flask, along with all the others hidden throughout the apartment. He was sure. He checked. Slowly, Tony pressed his forehead against the edge of the sink.

_What is wrong with me?_ he thought. _What, am I trying to throw this all away?_

It was the truth. He knew if he got drunk again, he'd lose Steve. Steve hadn't said anything directly like that – neither as a statement nor a threat – but there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them that if Tony started drinking again, Steve would leave. It was especially clear after those days Tony spent going through withdrawals. Although Steve was as careful, loving, and supportive as anyone could be when their partner was going through that, it was clear that he couldn't be put through it again. It would break him. In all honesty, though, Tony didn't think he could survive going through withdrawals again – Steve or no Steve.

Eventually, Tony pulled himself up off the floor. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and was startled. He was clearly pale and to some extent he still had the shakes. His eyes were encircled by dark shadows that almost looked like bruises. He touched them gently to make sure that they weren't. The didn't hurt, so he took that as a good sign. However, he could clearly see how people believed that he could possibly be sick. Hell, he almost believed it himself. His hands then went to his jawline. After a week of not shaving, his goatee had grown scruffy. He knew he was going to have to take care of that, but not right now. Instead, he turned and went back to the bedroom.

Slowly, he made his way over to Steve's side of the bed and sat on the edge, careful not to disturb him. For the most part, Steve was a light sleeper, so its surprised Tony that he didn't wake him up with the nightmare. Then again, it had been a rough few days and he doubted Steve had slept much either. Tony smiled. Steve always looked so beautiful when he was asleep. His face was tensionless, and he looked even younger than he usually did. It never failed to captivate Tony.

Gently, he ran his fingers through Steve's hair. He heard him give what sounded like a little – and completely adorable – squeak of pleasure in his sleep, but otherwise, Steve still didn't stir. Tony's smile grew wider as he entangled his fingers in Steve's hair further.

_God, if only you knew how gorgeous you are. I wouldn't stand a chance. I still don't stand a chance._

Tony's gaze went away from Steve's face and down to the floor. He really didn't deserve Steve. No matter how many times Steve told him otherwise, Tony couldn't bring himself to believe it. How could he? Steve was perfect. Tony had been told so his entire life, but he didn't believe it until he met him in person. Steve was, in fact, perfect, but not anything like how Howard had described him when he was younger. Steve was thoughtful, loving, and kind. He was there for Tony when he needed him. He was there for Tony when he needed him and even when he didn't. Steve was both physically and mentally strong, and just being near him could make a person feel like they could do anything. A man like that – in Tony's eyes, at least – was perfect, and that was why he didn't deserve him. It was impossible for someone as imperfect as him to stand alongside someone as perfect as Steve. He knew. He'd been trying his whole life.

Giving Steve's hair one last run-through, Tony got up and started walking. Initially, he was just going to lie down on the other side of the bed, but instead he ended up just following his feet through the door and out into the hallway. The door directly across from their bedroom was to Tony's private office. Without even thinking about it, he opened the door and stopped in the doorframe.

Tony's private office was nothing compared to his and Bruce's lab downstairs, but it was serviceable. Most of the time he spent in here was taken up by doing paperwork and other annoying stuff for SI. As much as he loved his company, there were a lot of things that came along with being the owner of it that just plain wasn't fun. At least now that he wasn't CEO he didn't have as much to do.

Slowly, Tony's eyes scanned the room. It looked much like it did the last time he was in there. It had been one of the few rooms in the apartment that had been finished prior to him and Steve moving in, so Pepper hadn't touched it. Well, that was other than to get rid of all the booze.

In the left corner of the room there was a bar setup. It once held several expensive bottles of fine liquors, but now it was completely bare and empty. Pepper had done as he had asked and poured all the alcohol down the drain. When he had been going through withdrawals, Tony had managed to get out from under Steve's supervision long enough to come in this room to try to seek relief from the pain. He had hoped to find at least one bottle that Pepper had missed. However, she had been thorough and not a single drop of alcohol remained. Shortly after that, Steve came in and led him back to bed. Standing in the office now; looking at that bar; Tony couldn't help but feel ashamed.

He had never wanted to become like Howard. That was his worst nightmare before he discovered his real worst nightmare. Howard had been a very angry, abusive drunk. Tony could hardly recall any point during his childhood where Howard wasn't drunk. He was even certain that Howard had been drinking the night of the car accident. As much as he publicly blamed the car's breaking systems (to the point where he actually bought out the company that made the car just so he could completely redesign that model's breaks as well as many of it's other safety features) Tony knew deep in his heart that it had been Howard's fault. Even if the braking system was defective, it was ultimately Howard's decision to get behind the wheel. It was his fault. He was the reason that Tony's mother was dead, and it would take a lot to convince him otherwise. He would never forgive Howard for that, which was why Tony felt so guilty as he stared at that bar.

He had let things get too far out of hand. Whether or not it was a "problem" was a discussion for a different day, but it was out of control. It honestly made him afraid. He had become just as reckless as Howard had been and from what he could remember, all he cared about was keeping up his buzz. Nothing else mattered to him – not Steve and not anyone or anything else – just the booze. That truly scared him. He didn't want to become like that. He didn't want to hurt the people he loved. He wanted to protect them. From what, he didn't quite know yet, but he knew that he wanted – no, **needed** to protect them.

He knew where he needed to start. He needed to stop drinking, at least for now. Although pangs of denial rippled throughout his brain, Tony knew that even if it wasn't a "problem," it needed to stop. He couldn't protect anyone if he was trashed. That was kind of a given, and now that the alcohol had been eliminated from the apartment, Tony knew what the next step had to be.

He stepped through the doorframe, into the office, and through the door that led to the assembly station for his armor. It was one of many placed throughout the building. He had it set up so that way he could be on almost any floor and be able to get suited up and ready for battle at any time. The armor wasn't what he was going into the assembly station for, though. He was after his tool bag.

The night before they flew out to D.C., Tony had been working on the MK13 armor. It wasn't as ready for use in battle yet and he was more likely to call for the MK12 if something had happened, but he still felt the need to but the MK13 on standby, just in case. Thankfully, Armageddon didn't rain down upon them, so there ended up being no need.

Tony remembered leaving his tools out there after Steve came to get him to come to bed. Pushing the doors open, he was immediately greeted by a burst of cold air. Tony's skin prickled at the sensation as he was only wearing a tank-top and pajama pants made of a very thin material. The doors leading to the outdoor launch/landing pad were drafty and there wasn't much Tony could do about it without putting something in the way of the machinery. So, he would just have to suffer through the bitterly freezing January-in-New-York air for a few minutes while he got what he needed.

Stepping over to the bag, Tony picked it up and took stock of all its contents. Everything he might need was in there, except for a sledgehammer. However, he only intended to use that as a last resort. So, Tony figured he could live without it for now. Besides, if worse came to worst, he knew there was one downstairs in the lab. It was no big deal.

Satisfied he had everything necessary – at least for now – Tony went back out into the office, careful to shut the door behind him as to not let any colder air in. Once inside, he set his sights on the bar. He couldn't stand to look at it anymore. Just having it there felt like temptation even if there wasn't any alcohol inside. The saying was "out of sight, out of mind," and hopefully he could push at least some of the temptation to drink out of mind if he took apart the bar and got it out of the apartment.

Although, another saying also applied to that task; "easier said than done." Tony didn't install the bar himself. He had paid a guy to do it for him. Because of that, he didn't know exactly how it was put together and therefore he didn't know exactly how to take it apart. However, it wasn't like that was a problem. He didn't really care if he broke something or tore it apart – after all he still had the sledgehammer as an option – but not knowing exactly what he was doing would slow the process significantly and that was a bit annoying. Tony cold be a patient man, but right now he didn't want to waste time. He just wanted it done.

Some things couldn't be helped, though. So, Tony just hoped he could get away with winging it for now. Getting behind the bar and down on his knees, Tony started by taking the doors off the cabinets, which was an easy enough task. After that, he moved on to removing the shelves. He had to lie on his back and angled his head oddly to spot where the screws were, he managed to do it and got the shelves out without too much difficulty. Once he had all the shelves removed, he could easily see where all the bolts holding the countertop together were and set about removing them.

Removing all the bolts and screws was rather easy. However, once he was done, Tony was faced with another problem. The countertop was made from a heavy stone. He couldn't be sure what type of stone (though he knew it wasn't marble or granite) but he knew that it at least felt disproportionately heavy. Although he certainly wasn't as strong on his own as he was with the armor, Tony was still a pretty strong guy. He figured at the very least, he could lower the countertop slowly and gently on to the ground. At least, that was what he thought.

Tony walked around the bar a few times, trying to discern the best way of removing the countertop. In the end, he decided to get in front of the bar and tried to pull the countertop forward and down from there. It seemed like the best choice since he had more space in front of the bar to set the countertop down than he did behind it or on either side. That seemed good enough for him. However, what Tony didn't consider that lifting a stone of that weight and unusual shape was a job for two or more able-bodied men. As a result, Tony couldn't manage to distribute his strength properly and ended up dropping the countertop to the ground with a loud **slam!**

"Shit!"

Tony stepped out of the way fast enough that he narrowly avoided having the countertop come down on his toes. For a second, he had to gasp in shock while he pressed a hand to his chest. He didn't think his heart was beating too abnormally given the circumstance, but he still had to check. Assured that he wasn't having a heart attack, Tony turned his scrutiny to his fingers and toes. All of them were attached and there were no tell-tale signs of bruising or bleeding, so he figured he was good to go on that front.

Turning his gaze back to the bar, Tony was a little afraid of what he'd see. Luckily, there wasn't too much damage. The countertop hadn't cracked or broken when it landed and the floor appeared to be unmarked, so that was a win. He was about to try to pick up the counter and set it down properly when the door to the office came flying open.

Tony turned to see Steve standing in the doorway, his hair a mess and his eyes frantic. Tony swallowed guiltily. He hadn't meant to wake up Steve, but he ended up doing it anyway and it seemed like he'd given him quite a fright. Steve hadn't bothered to put on any clothes; he was still in his underwear as he had rushed straight from bed as soon as he heard the crash. A little bit of relief came across his face as soon as he spotted Tony, but he still appeared frazzled.

"Are you hell happened?" Tony had trouble suppressing his snort of laughter. Clearly in his frantic state, Steve had tried to say, "are you okay?" and "what the hell happened?" at the same time. Tony wanted to laugh harder, but for Steve's sake, he kept his reaction subdued.

"I'm fine," he quickly assured. "I'm fine, don't worry." He held his hands up and flipped them so Steve could see both sides. "Not a scratch on me." Slowly, Steve seemed to let out a breath he'd been holding.

"You're okay?" he said, scanning his eyes up and down Tony's body to be sure he hadn't missed any injuries.

"I'm okay," he assured again. Steve nodded before glancing around the room.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I dropped the countertop." Tony didn't give any further explanation. Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Okay," he said. "Why were you moving the countertop?"

"Because I'm getting rid of the bar." A look of surprise crossed Steve's face.

"Really?" Tony nodded. "Do you need help?" It was Tony's turn to look surprised.

"What?" he questioned. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "Why would I offer to help if I wasn't serious?"

"I just…" Tony hesitated a moment. "Aren't you going to ask more questions?"

"Do you need me to ask more questions?" Tony shook his head.

"No," he said softly.

"Then I won't," Steve said. "I'll just help." Tony's lips quirked upright.

"Thank you," he said.

"No problem," Steve said. "Now, what can I do to help?" Tony turned to look behind him at the disassembled mess of the bar.

"Well," he said. "I guess we should start with the countertop but be careful. I don't think it's broken, but I can't be sure. Besides, it's heavy and probably a two-person job. So, how about I take one side…"

While Tony had been talking, Steve had walked right up to the countertop and picked it up almost effortlessly. It was only then that Tony remembered that his boyfriend could literally bench press a bus. He frowned.

"Show off," he muttered.

"Yeah," Steve said. "But you can't deny that you enjoy it." Alright, Tony had to give Steve that, especially since he wasn't wearing any clothes to obscure the view of his flexing muscles. "Where do you want this?"

"Uh, can you take it out and put it by the elevator for now?" Tony asked. "We'll worry about getting it out of the apartment later. I just want it out of here."

"Alright," Steve said as he made his way towards the door.

It turned out to be a two-person job anyway. Steve was holding the countertop vertically. It was just a little bit taller than he was, so he couldn't see where he was going. At first, he tried walking backwards towards the door so he could turn and at least attempt to see where he was going, but that didn't really work out. Instead, Tony directed him around the furniture and over to the foyer area slowly, which went a lot more smoothly. Steve set the countertop down on the floor by the elevator carefully as not to cause another crash. Thankfully, he didn't drop it like Tony had and the two of them headed back into the office to move on to the next task.

The countertop was the heaviest piece of the bar. The rest of it was made from a lightweight, yet strong wood, so Tony could easily handle taking it apart on his own. However, he didn't stop Steve from helping him. In fact, he appreciated the help. It made things go faster and it felt a lot easier than when he was doing it on his own. Not to mention he got to surreptitiously observe his shirtless boyfriend while he worked. Oh, the fantasies that sparked…

They managed to finish only a short bit later and sat down on the floor in the space that used to be behind the bar with their backs against the window. Both were silent, taking in the fruits of their efforts. Tony ran his foot along the indentation the bar had left behind on the floor. It wasn't that deep given that the bar had only been there for a few months, but it was still noticeable. Tony sighed.

"So, are you still going to hold off on asking questions?" Tony turned to look at Steve, who shrugged.

"What questions are there to ask?"

"Plenty," Tony said.

"And do you really want to answer any of them?" Tony hesitated.

"Yes," he said warily. Steve didn't look convinced. "Alright, some I really don't know the answers to. Others… I want to be honest with you. I really do. I'm just scared…" Tony felt Steve place a hand on his shoulder, so he looked him right in the eyes.

"Then you don't need me to pressure you into giving answers you might not be able to give," Steve said. "Just tell me what you know right now, up front. If you don't want to say anything, it's fine." As much as Tony would have liked to stay silent, he still felt as though he owed Steve an explanation.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know what I'm doing. I know it needs to stop – the drinking, that is – but I can't…" Tony brought his hand to his forehead and took a deep breath. "I can't decide whether or not I want to make this a permanent thing. Part of me knows that I should do it; that it's the right thing to do. The other part…" He shook his head. "The other part just keeps telling me that I know I'm not that strong."

"But you are." Tony laughed humorlessly.

"Steve," he said. "I'm forty-one years old. I've been drinking since I was nine. That's thirty-two years of unfettered addiction. That's tough to break."

"And you can do it," Steve said. "I know you can." Tony smiled for a moment, but it quickly faded back into a frown.

"I appreciate your encouragement," he said. "But let's be realistic."

"I am being realistic," Steve said. "You can do this. You're strong, and even if you're not I'm right here. I'll do anything and everything in my power to help you, Tony."

"What about when it becomes too much?" he asked.

"You're never too much." Tony looked down and his frown deepened.

"I know how bad it can get," he said. "For God's sake, I just finished going through withdrawals yesterday. I know how bad it can get and I know it can happen again. I don't want it to happen again, but I know it will."

"And if it does, I'll be right there with you," Steve assured. "We'll get through it together."

"No, you won't," Tony said. "I saw you then. It was too much for you. You wanted to leave."

"But did I? Tony, look at me." Tony hesitated before complying. Once again, he was completely mesmerized by the clear conviction in Steve's blue eyes. "Did I?"

"No," Tony said. "But you wanted to."

"What I wanted was to put an end to your pain," Steve said. "You were struggling, crying, and nothing I did could help you. I've never seen anyone in so much pain. I was scared that you could have… That the only way you would get better would be…"

Tony could feel a crack form in his heart. Steve couldn't bring himself to say the words – probably for fear that if he said it aloud, it would happen – but Tony knew exactly what he meant. He was afraid that Tony was going to die; that the only way for him to be free of withdrawal pains would be if he died. It was a dark thought; one that Tony couldn't claim that he hadn't had himself, especially in the thick of it.

"I know," Tony said. "And I'm sorry I put you through that. You never should have had to, but…" Tony sighed. "I'd like to say that it's not going to happen again, but I can't because I know myself. I'm a dumpster fire with literally no impulse control. I know that I'll eventually end up drinking again just like I know that it's eventually going to rain. I'm not going to succeed at this, Steve. I know that. So please, take this as a warning: get off the ride before you get hurt."

"No," Steve said. "I'm not going to leave you."

"Steve…" Tony could feel tears pricking at his eyes.

"Unless you want me to," Steve said. "Do you?"

"I just want the pain to stop," Tony said. "For you and me both."

"And do you really think breaking up would spare us that pain?" Steve asked. "Not just add to it?" Tony didn't even need to think about it to know the answer.

"No," he said. "But you deserve better than this."

"I don't give a damn about what I deserve," Steve said. "What I care about is what you deserve, and that is someone who will stick by you no matter what." He took Tony's hand. "If you want to get sober, I'll help you. If you relapse, I'll be right there to help you set yourself straight again. I promise that I'll always be there for you." A tear spilled over and dribbled down Tony's cheek.

"Alright," he said. "If that doesn't put you in the running for boyfriend of the year…" Steve lips turned upwards, and Tony returned the smile for a moment before looking back down. "Fuck, I'm so sorry for all of this."

"There's nothing to apologize for," Steve said.

"Even so…" Tony took a deep breath before he brought himself to look Steve in the eyes again. "Also, just so you know, that's a two-way street. I know I'm a flaming hot mess and everything always comes down on me, but if you need anything, I'm there. I promise." Steve smiled.

"Thank you," he said. Tony pulled himself closer to Steve.

"I know I couldn't put it as eloquently as you did…" Steve cut him off with a quick kiss.

"It's perfect."

Within a fraction of a second, Tony moved to straddle Steve and had him locked in a deep, passionate kiss. Things got heated rather fast. Tony could feel his heart pounding in his chest as one kiss melted into another. As they breathlessly parted for a moment, an idea popped into Tony's head. Pressing a quick kiss to Steve's cheek, Tony brought his lips over to his ear.

"I know how to make this up to you," he whispered before pecking Steve's temple.

"You don't need to make up for anything," he said softly. Tony shushed him.

"You'll like this."

Tony trailed his tongue down to Steve's jawline, where he started to leave tiny kisses as he made his way south. He paused for a moment to pay special attention to a part of Steve's neck that he knew made him moan when nibbled and was rewarded in kind. Continuing to travel downwards, Tony left a trail of kisses, nibbles, and hot breath that lead right down to the hem of Steve's underwear.

Gently gripping the edge of the waistband on both sides, Tony looked up and met Steve's eyes. God, he loved how flushed and breathless he looked. Steve panted a few times before he found himself able to speak.

"Yes," he gasped out in response to the unspoken question. "Please, Tony."

That was all he needed to hear. Pulling the underwear down with one quick motion, Steve was left exposed to the air.

* * *

Natasha was the epitome of the term "light sleeper." The Red Room had trained it into her from day one. It started with the trainers startling her and the other girls awake at random points during the night. However, as they grew and honed their skills, the trainers from just startling them to full-on attacking them as they slept. As a result, even many years later, Nat was constantly on guard as she slept; waiting for the next attack to come.

This was why when she heard one of the side doors squeak open, Natasha immediately pulled one of her guns from its holster and pointed it in the direction of the defenseless nurse who just walked in. The woman held up her hands to show that she had no weapons and carefully spoke in calm tones.

"Agent Romanoff," she said. "I'm just here to take Agent Barton's vitals. I don't mean any harm to you, him, or anyone else."

Slowly letting out a breath, Natasha lowered the gun and put it back in its holster. Relieved, the nurse quickly made her way over to Clint and began running her tests. Nat watched closely, trying to ascertain if the prognosis was good or bad before the nurse even needed to speak. However, it was impossible. The nurse's face was stone cold as she went about her work. It was the mark of a seasoned expert in her field. So, Nat couldn't discern anything. Defeated, she sat up and moved to sit on the edge of the hospital bed and waited for the nurse to finish.

"How is he?" she immediately asked. The nurse looked up but remained unphased.

"His blood pressure is starting to return to normal levels," she said. "And his body is still trying to fight the infection." The nurse caught Natasha's dissatisfied look. "Only time will tell, but in my professional opinion, he has a fighting chance." Nat nodded.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome." The nurse started to move back towards the door she came from. "Dr. Wayne asked me to remind you that your next blood test is in three hours. Try to squeeze in whatever rest you can before then."

Natasha nodded and thanked the woman again. The nurse then left without another word. Nat knew she should lie back down, but she couldn't. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Clint, who was fast asleep in the bed across from her. The vinyl panel that had separated the two haves of the room had been removed as Nat had already been exposed, so it wasn't like separating her from Clint would prevent anything. As a result, Nat had both an uninterrupted view of Clint and the rest of the room, and nothing blocking her from the guilt of the horrible acts she had almost done in his name. She looked down and took a deep breath before bringing her eyes back to Clint.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

**Special thanks to mammal and DiveTooDeep on AO3 for the kudos and comments! It really means a lot! :)**

**Yeah... TBH, this is the closest I'm probably going to get to writing porn, so enjoy it, people. I'm not giving you any more than implications, cut-to-black, and coitus interruptus. Hate me all you like, but I'm not comfortable writing it, end of discussion. **

**Since the last author's note was monstrous, I'll keep this one short and sweet. Be sure to review, comment, leave kudos, favorite, and follow. **

**Remember kids, shaming someone into writing something that they don't want to is bad.**

* * *

**Originally posted to FFN on 9/7/20.**


	32. Vendetta, Sweet Vendetta

**Today's a day where I really wish I could be with my family. Well, the ones I like anyway...**

* * *

**Wednesday, February 1st, 2012**

Desperation is a marvelous thing. It can cause people to do things they never would bring themselves to otherwise, like order a biological attack on a group of superheroes. That was guaranteed to work out well.

Adoniram had been introduced to Maurita Sharpton by his close personal advisor, Congressman Eduardo Salinas. Sharpton was deeply mourning the loss of her daughter during the Battle of New York, so she was easily corrupted and converted into a member of the Peoples Unity Church. Adoniram considered such a conversion a win, especially considering her high position within the Roxxon Corporation's conglomeration. Not only did it give them access to Roxxon's assets, but it also added to their clout.

The best people to recruit – in Adoniram's opinion – were those who had already made a name for themselves; titans of industry, celebrities, and people who were just successful in general. Often the general public worked as a hive mind. If someone famous or successful joined the Church, they would see an uptick in recruitment numbers, either because their fans and followers were feeble-minded people who just blindly followed the leader, or because they thought that the Peoples Unity Church would cause them to be successful as well. It didn't matter which they thought to Adoniram, if the Church could sink its teeth into them before their delusions faded. Once their minds were corrupted, it would be next to impossible to leave. (That was, you know, unless he failed to produce results again.)

This tactic made it easy to see why Freeman would suggest recruiting the Avengers. After all, he'd seen the power of celebrity work before. If they got the Avengers to joint the Peoples Unity Church, they would certainly see an uptick in recruitment like they had never seen before. However, it couldn't be done. Adoniram had already painted the Avengers in a villainous light to his already established followers. If he were to do a one-eighty and recruit the Avengers into the Church, then he would be risking losing the established group. Although his brainwashing techniques were thorough and intense, Adoniram wasn't arrogant enough to think it was perfect. It could and had been broken in the past – hence why he always said, "**next to** impossible." The previous mass exoduses were only proof of that. He didn't want to risk losing any more followers. After all, he needed as many people as possible for what he had planned.

Speaking of what he had planned, that was another reason why he couldn't recruit the Avengers; they would most certainly try to put a stop to it. He just knew none of them would be able to morally stand for it – no matter how much brainwashing he subjected them to – so they had to be eliminated. That was why he ordered Sharpton to send the virus to Avengers Tower. He wanted them out of the way ASAP.

However, it ended up not working. Although the news had reported that the Avenger dubbed "Hawkeye" was successfully infected with the virus and had come close to death, he was now apparently recovering. Thankfully, Sharpton had taken the blame as planned and there was nothing to connect the plot back to him or the Church. That was all fine and good except for the fact that it put a minor hitch in his plans.

Adoniram originally planned to use the virus for another purpose, but after hearing the reports of how it had affected the Avengers, he realized it wasn't going to work. He had expected the Black Widow, Captain America, and maybe Dr. Banner to walk away unscathed, but he hadn't expected Stark and Hawkeye – the two most human members of the group – to survive. This showed him that the virus wasn't nearly as deadly as Sharpton had claimed and with the woman in prison, he couldn't exactly force her to fix it. So, he was going to be forced to figure something else out.

That's what he was doing when he touched the shard. He had Marx show him all the information that was archived on different poisons and diseases. Most of it was alien, however there were some information on Terran poisons. Apparently, most humanoid creatures were vulnerable to nerve agents such as Sarin and VX. They had different names depending on what part of the galaxy you were in, but they still had the same composition and were just as deadly. The only way a person could be exposed to the gasses and still survive without permanent damage was if the person was enhanced and they were only exposed for a short amount of time, which Adoniram had found interesting.

**_Knock! Knock! Knock!_**

"Husband, are you decent?"

Adoniram pulled his hand away from the shard a little too fast. As a result, he was momentarily blinded, and his head felt like it was spinning. Shutting his eyes and shaking his head usually fixed it, but this time it took a little longer than normal. By the time his vision came back to him, Margot was calling for him again, her voice growing slightly concerned. Adoniram shut the shard's case and went to get the door.

"Hello, wife," he said. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It is no problem, husband," she said. "You could never keep me waiting."

"As it should be," Adoniram said. "Now, why have you summoned me, dear wife?" Margot's lips twitched upwards at the term of endearment.

"Brother Eduardo and Brother Duane are here to see you, husband," she reported.

"Did you tell them that I'm seeking council with the Supreme Understanding?" Adoniram asked.

"Yes," Margot responded. "But they said the matter was urgent." Adoniram sighed.

"The Supreme Understanding is nothing if not compassionate," he said. "I can put my conversation on hold for now. Tell them to come in." Margot nodded.

"Right away, husband." She patted his cheek before retreating into the den.

Adoniram moved to sit in the armchair he usually sat in when there were meetings in his study. Salinas and Freeman arrived rather quickly, with Salinas careful to shut the door behind him. When he turned around, anger clearly marred his face.

"Where have you been?" Adoniram's mouth quickly dropped open, aghast.

"Excuse me?"

"You know what I mean," Salinas said. "Utter bedlam has been breaking over the past day and where have you been?"

"I was communicating with the Supreme Understanding," Adoniram said. "I do not need to defend myself to you."

"Sure, you don't," Salinas said. "It's not as if your plan completely failed."

"In what way?" Salinas' jaw almost completely dropped.

"The Avengers are still alive," he said. "The virus didn't kill them, like we had hoped! They are still a threat to us!"

"What?!" The exclamation flew right out of Freeman's mouth. "What the… Does this… You're the ones who sent the virus to the Avengers?" His eyes darted between Salinas and Adoniram. Salinas was completely unphased.

"Oh, yes," Salinas said. "We launched a retaliatory attack against the Avengers. We didn't tell you because we needed you to act authentic in front of the authorities."

"What the…" Freeman stammered. "Why the… That was so dangerous! I could have been exposed!"

"A shame," Adoniram heard Salinas mutter under his breath. Adoniram glared at him. Now they had a third accomplice to worry about.

"That explains why you wouldn't stop texting me, trying to find out the Avengers' conditions." The look of sudden realization was quickly replaced on Freeman's face with a look of sour confusion. "Wait, what do you mean 'retaliation?' What did the Avengers even do in the first place?"

"The unthinkable," Salinas said. "Tony Stark tried to kill me." Shock spread across Freeman's face.

"What?" he gasped out, astonished. "When? How?"

"Last week," Salinas said. "While Stark was in my house, he and possibly my maid attempted to poison me with the venom of a rare species of jellyfish."

"How do you know that?" Freeman asked.

"I found the box that once contained the venom on the steps to my basement," Salinas explained. "Luckily I caught it before I could eat or drink anything in that house. I'm even having the hot water heater replaced, just in case."

"When did you find out about this?" Freeman asked. "Was it while the RCMP was searching for Stark?"

"It was before I even called to tell you he was missing." Freeman brought his hands up to the top of his bald head.

"What?" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I had to be certain that you weren't somehow involved in planning the attack, Brother Duane." Salinas' voice took on a dark quality. "Now, were you?" Freeman's face scrunched in disgust.

"Absolutely not," he firmly denied. "I didn't even know Stark was planning something like that! I thought he was actually drunk!"

"So, did I," Salinas said. Freeman turned his gaze to Adoniram.

"You knew about this?" he asked. "You ordered it?" Adoniram sighed.

"It's not like I had much of a choice," he explained. "The Avengers twisted my hand. They attacked first. I can't let something like that go. So, yes, I had Brother Eduardo put the order for the attack forward."

"My God…"

"**Excuse me**?" Guilt flashed across Freeman's face.

"My apologies, Brother Daniel," he said. "But you have to understand that what I just learned is quite shocking."

"That still does not excuse the blasphemy," Adoniram said, his voice still booming.

"You're right." Freeman bowed. "I am truly sorry, Brother Daniel." Adoniram was silent for a moment as he analyzed the apology. Unfortunately, he found that in this situation, he would have to allow it.

"You are forgiven," he said begrudgingly. "Just don't let it happen again." Freeman straightened up and nodded.

"Yes, Brother," he said. "I won't." Adoniram took a deep breath as he formulated what he wanted to say next.

"Now listen," he said. "I know this comes as a shock to you, but the Avengers are not good people. They want this organization and movement to die. That's why Stark won't let us practice in his building and why they tried to kill Brother Eduardo. I know you might have grown fond of the Avengers by working at Stark Industries, but you need to understand that they cannot be trusted. I'm sure that if Stark found out that you were affiliated with the Church, he would have you fired immediately." Freeman frowned.

"Um, you remember that I resigned right?" Adoniram's brow knitted in confusion.

"What?"

"Yeah," Freeman said. "It was in that speech Salinas sent me." Adoniram sent a sharp, side-eyed glare to the other man who didn't look guilty in the slightest. His gaze went back to Freeman as he continued. "Although, Miss Potts refused to accept my resignation and fired me herself." That revelation caused Adoniram's eyebrows to raise up.

"Really," he said. "What was the stated reason?"

"Attempting to slander my employer while still under contract and gross negligence," Freeman said. "The former was for reading Salinas' statement in front of the press, and the latter was for 'not acting responsibly' while Stark was missing."

"Did anyone at Stark Industries know about your affiliation with the Church before they fired you?" Adoniram asked.

"Stark and his assistant knew for sure," Freeman said. "It came out when I told them and the other three Avengers that I called the RCMP."

"Interesting," Adoniram remarked.

"However, none of them were there at the time and it was the company's CEO – Miss Virginia Potts – that fired me," Freeman said. "I don't know if she was aware of my affiliation."

"It doesn't matter," Adoniram said. "As long as someone in a position of power at the company knew you were a member of our Church, we have grounds for wrongful termination – and Stark certainly fits the bill of someone in a position of power."

"Wrongful termination?" Freeman questioned. "Is that really necessary, considering I was resigning anyway."

"Of course, it is," Salinas said. "Especially since you just lost us our key to Avengers Tower." Freeman frowned.

"I was resigning because **you** told me to," Freeman pointed out.

"But instead you got fired," Salinas snapped. "And now you've royally screwed us over!"

"I wouldn't say that," Freeman tried to defend.

"Neither would I." Salinas turned his gaze to Adoniram, eyes wide with shock.

"Excuse me?" he said. "We just had one of our biggest avenues of publicity cut off! Do you know how many people joined us because they saw our services in and around Avengers Tower? This is going to be a detrimental blow to our recruitment efforts! How can you be so nonchalant about this?"

"Because I'm not," Adoniram said, his firm tone unwavering. "I have a plan for this."

"Really?" Salinas scoffed. "Care to share?"

"Of course," Adoniram said. "But first, there's another matter we need to attend to." He looked Freeman directly in the eye. "I want you to find Sister Grace and tell her that I'm authorizing you to be moved from the Worker's Section to the Disciple's Wing." Freeman's mouth dropped.

"The Disciple's Wing?" He was practically stuttering with shock. "But, Brother Daniel, I just lost my job. Shouldn't I be moving to the Proles' Center?"

"No, no." Adoniram shook his head. "Don't worry about that. I have a new job lined up for you and trust me, it will have you doing good work for the Church."

"Wow," Freeman said. "I, uh, this is amazing! Thank you so much, Brother!" He stepped forward and reached out his hand, which Adoniram took and gave a quick shake.

"I'm glad you've chosen to accept the position," he said. "I have a feeling you'll do exceptionally well."

"I'll do my best, Brother," Freeman said. "I promise, I won't let you down."

"I have no doubts about that." Adoniram then stood up from his chair, put a hand on Freeman's shoulder, and started leading him to the door. "Now, if Sister Grace gives you any trouble, just tell her that she can come and speak to me personally. I'll make sure everything gets sorted out."

"Okay," Freeman said as Adoniram opened the door for him. "Will do." He took a step through the doorway before turning around to face Adoniram. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to gush, but thank you again, Brother, for this wonderful opportunity. It is truly an honor."

"As I am sure it is," Adoniram said. "That will be all for now, Brother Duane." Freeman bowed.

"I thank you for hosting me in your presence, Brother Daniel," Freeman said.

"And I you, Brother Duane," Adoniram said. "You are dismissed."

Freeman straightened up, nodded, and started to make his way down the hall. Adoniram slowly backed away from the door and shut it, careful to twist the lock before backing away from the door. He turned around and looked Salinas dead in the eye.

"Go ahead," he said. "Say what you're going to say." Salinas' face turned red faster than a stoplight.

"What the hell?" he shouted. "What are you thinking, making that idiot a Decibel? Do you know what kind of damage he's done to us; to the Church?"

"I am aware," Adoniram said. "That's why I'm not actually promoting him to Decibel." He moved to sit back down in his armchair. Salinas' eyes followed him the entire way.

"Then what the hell?" he said. "Why are you moving him to the Decibel's Wing and giving him some special new job? He's not responsible and can't be trusted!"

"I know," Adoniram said. "That's why I'm moving him; to keep an eye on him."

"The move him in with the RCMP," Salinas said. "That's their job, isn't it; to keep an eye on things?"

"Yes," Adoniram said. "But placing him with them would arouse suspicion. Besides, we shouldn't be tempting the women into breaking their chastity vows. Also, isn't the phrase 'keep you friends close and enemies closer?" Salinas raised an eyebrow.

"Do you suspect that he may be working for Stark and the Avengers?" Adoniram scoffed at the idea.

"No," he said. "But he is a risk. I don't trust him not to leak information – whether intentionally or unintentionally. It's best to keep him where we can watch him."

"And this 'special promotion' you're giving him," Salinas said. "What is that all about?"

"It's not really so much of a promotion for him as much as it is an opportunity for us." Salinas' eyebrows knitted together.

"What do you mean?" Adoniram smirked.

"We are going to take our campaign against Stark and the Avengers to the next level." Salinas frowned.

"How are we going to do that?" he asked. "Without Freeman there, we can't get inside the building anymore. We're not going to be able to protest in Stark's lobby."

"You're right," Adoniram said. "But we don't need to do that anymore. Not when we have this golden opportunity just sitting in our laps."

"And what would that be?" Salinas asked.

"Think about it," Adoniram said. "We have an ex-Stark employee on our hands, and not only do we have plausible grounds for a wrongful termination lawsuit, but we also have access to a literal treasure-trove of Stark Industries secrets. We can expose all of them."

"All of them?" Salinas questioned.

"All of them." Adoniram smiled. "Every single industry trade secret. Every single shady dealing and off-shore bank account. Everything Stark has tried to keep hidden over the past twenty-one years. Hell, we could probably find dirt going as far back as Howard Stark! The possibilities are endless because we have access to everything!"

"Okay," Salinas said. "So, you're going to take all of this to court?"

"Not just court," Adoniram said. "Tell me, Eduardo, how hard would it be to get into contact with Miss Christine Everhart?" Salinas shrugged.

"Not that hard," Salinas said. "ABC has her based out of D.C. now, but I'm sure if we make it **worth her while**, she'd be willing to fly out here." Adoniram smiled sinisterly.

"Oh, I have no doubt she will," Adoniram said. "Especially if Stark is involved." Salinas nodded in agreement.

"Wouldn't doubt that for a second," he said. "Anyone else you'd like me to make a call to?"

"Just call as many reporters as you can," Adoniram said. "Put a particular focus on those Stark has had an issue with in the past, but make sure Everhart comes first. She really knows how to get under his skin, if the D.C. interview is anything to go by."

"Right," Salinas said. "I'll get on it right away." He then turned and started walking towards the door.

"Oh, and Salinas." He stopped as he finished unlocking the door and turned to face Adoniram again.

"Yes?"

"When talking to Miss Everhart," Adoniram said. "Don't be afraid to lay on the **charm**, if you know what I mean." Salinas smirked.

"Oh, don't worry," he said. "I can be very **convincing **when I need to be."

Salinas then opened the door and walked out, leaving Adoniram alone in his study once again. He took a deep breath in and out. The playing field had just changed radically. However, he had been prepared for this, so it didn't come as a total surprise. He needed a moment to process all the changes and events. God, old age was making him weary.

After a few moments, Adoniram stood and went back to his desk. He tapped the small button on the top of the circular case and the shard slid out. Gently, he placed a finger on top of it, and once again he came face-to-face with the image of Karl Marx.

"Now," Adoniram said. "Where did we leave off?"

* * *

**Special thanks to mfaerie32 on FFN for the review and DiveTooDeep on AO3 for the comment! It really means a lot! :)**

**Sorry for the short chapter and the fact that it centered on OCs! It can't really be helped, but most of the chapters that I've written so far after this center on at least one of the Avengers, so hopefully that'll make it up to you guys!**

**Remember kids, the plot needs what the plot needs. **


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